LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Chap. Copyright No. 

Shelf_:E&.k33l 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



BRIGHT THREADS. 



i 



J 



Bright Threads 



JULIA H/ JOHNSTON 






NEW YORK: 46 East i 4 th Street 

THOMAS Y. CROWELL & COMPANY 

BOSTON: 100 Purchase Street 



77/ * 331 



Copyright, 1897, 
By T. V. Crowell & Co. 



TYPOGRAPHY BY C. J. PETERS & SON, BOSTON. 



PRESSWORK BY S. J. PARKHILL & CO. 



Ojc Dear 3l)omc Circle 

ONCE GATHERED AND STILL CENTRED 

IN THE CENTRAL CITY OF THE 

PRAIRIE STATE. 



H^HROUGH the courtesy of "The Interior," 
" The Mid- Continent," The Presbyterian Board 
of Publication, The David C. Cook Publishing 
Company, and others, these reprints are made 
possible, and the kind permission is gratefully 
acknowledged. 

y. h. y. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Pleasant Thoughts i 

Good Wishes S 

The Angels" Song 9 

Fringes on the Garments 11 

Songs Without Listeners 17 

Minikin Miseries iS 

A Winter Parable 24 

"The Bright Battalions" 28 

On the Heights ^1 

Unweighed Vessels 33 

Unsought Happiness 40 

"The Servants which drew the Water. 

knew" 41 

" Hope-Failure ,j 42 

The Bright Reflection 49 

Good-Morning 51 

The Art of Overlooking 52 

Alleyways 56 

His Eve seeth Every Precious Thing . 5S 
vii 



vni CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

.She picked It up 60 

The Passion for Finishing ..... 62 

Directed Steps . . 69 

'•The Wholesome Pinch of the Just 

Enough " 70 

Shavings and Kindling 76 

She left Her Water-Pot y/ 

Is Jesus in the House? 79 

"Making up the Hedge, and standing 

in the Gap " . « 80 

" They heard not the Voice of Him 

THAT SPAKE TO Me" 86 

"Mint and Anise and Cummin — These 

ought Ye to have done" .... SS 

The Daily Chart 94 

The Doors being shit 96 

Unowned Fields 98 

In White 99 

All the Days 100 

Bitter Herbs 101 

"There's All Eternity Before" . . . 108 

"Multiplying Horses" no 

Drink Water out of Thine Own Cis- 

TERN 112 

Large Investments. ........ 113 



CONTENTS. ix 

PAGE 

The Broken Branch 115 

He is Risen 11; 

As You Pass 119 

Wounded Feelings 121 

Multiplied Seed . 122 

A Passing Salute 12^ 

Up the Hill, is into the Light . . . 124 

The Thoughts of God 125 

Beads upon a String 126 

In -The Garden of Girls" 133 

His Way is in the Sea 142 

Sweet Herbs 14^ 

Handfuls of Purpose 14; 

Incidentals 152 

Penetrating Colors ice 



The fabric of life is a homespun web, 

Each -weaver fashions his own; 
The war p ami the woof are of God' 's own giving, 
But the " fitting in M of the daily living 

Is the weaver *s choice alone. 
Then choose bright threads for the homespun 

As the shuttle is daily thrown. 



Pleasant Efjougrjls. 

" Make yourselves nests of pleasant 
thoughts " is a piece of advice worth 
taking. 

Harrowing reflections, teasing sugges- 
tions from " The Angel of the After- 
thought," and perplexing forecasts, are 
numerous enough, more's the pity ; but 
they need not be wrought into resting- 
places when one has a choice of build- 
ing-material. Take happy recollections 
and bright anticipations instead, and 
weave in all the present joy that a thank- 
ful heart can extract from its surround- 
ings. 

Build the nests high too, in secure 
yet breezy places ; for everything that 
makes life and shelters it should be 
lifted, not lowered. Watch a bird at its 
building, and see how it frames its nest. 



2 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 

Out of all manner of places, with dis- 
cerning eye and dexterous beak, it takes 
the threads and fibres that it weaves to- 
gether presently, in cunning and curious 
fashion. 

So the heart must be discriminating, 
and must be content with shreds and 
odds and ends, with small attentions 
and good intentions, and bits of happi- 
ness and hope. But put together all 
the reasons for good cheer and grateful 
feeling, and the pleasant thoughts will 
make a nest to dwell in. Reject all 
troublous things in the building, and let 
fears and frets be as wayfarers only, 
not venturing in to lodge or to loiter. 

Keep the memory of past pleasures 
to warm the present, but " let us not 
burden our remembrance with a heavi- 
ness that's gone." What if it did take 
Shakespeare to say that ? A generation 
of people not as clever, may do better 
than say it — they may live it. No 
matter, either, if the memory of past 



PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 3 

gladness brings the present into sombre 
contrast : — 

"What can I pray? Give me forgetfulness? 
No, I would still possess 
Passed away smiles, though present fronts be 
stern." 

Let all the people say " Amen " to Jean 
Ingelow's decision, and use the pleasant 
memories for a dwelling-place to-day. 

But the past is not the only store- 
house. There is the future. Why not 
draw upon it in hope rather than in 
fear ? Forecastings are sadly apt to 
be dread forebodings only, but as one 
says, " Why not ' perhaps ' good as well 
as ' perhaps ' evil ? w 

What an uplift of spirit comes from 
buoyant anticipation. \\ nile surprises 
are sweet, looked-for pleasures are thrice 
enjoyed. If they fail, then at least a 
third of the happiness, the forward look, 
is secure ; and it is better to indulge 
to an innocent degree, even in castle- 



4 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 

building with airy foundations, than to 
allow the thoughts to go burrowing into 
some possible Doubting Castle of the 
future. 

Let us take on trust happily, what is 
sure to come helpfully \\fhen it does 
come, — 

" If thou foredate the date of woe, 
Then thou alone must bear the blow." 

What if we are coming daily nearer 
to Marah's brink ? " The Lord will 
sweeten the waters before we stoop to 
drink." And as certainly as the desert 
has its bitter springs, so surely do Elim's 
palms and fountains lie beyond. Look 
forward to the encampment there, when 
Marah shall be past. 

To be sure it takes a resolute, spirit, 
and " grace upon grace,." to contemplate 
always the pleasing things which bring 
pleasant thoughts, and to turn away 
from what is depressing, and from which 
nothing is gained ; but why not be res- 



PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 5 

olute, and take the grace ? That is not 
necessarily impossible which is hard. 

The temptation to linger over annoy- 
ances and disagreeables is a device of 
the Evil One to make us miserable. In 
life's greater sorrows and supreme crises, 
God hides us away from trivialities, but 
every-day living is beset with trifles that 
hinder pleasant thoughts. 

Nothing is to be gained, however, from 
dwelling upon people's foibles and fol- 
lies, upon little slights and stings, upon 
the "total depravity of inanimate things," 
often harrowing, it is true. It avails 
little, as a means of grace, to meditate 
upon mistakes and weaknesses, most 
humiliating to remember, and hard to 
forgive, because pride and self-respect 
have been wounded by them. To take 
them at once to our compassionate God, 
asking him to correct them and us, and 
then to put away the mortified feelings 
that follow 7 failures, will do more to fos- 
ter true humility, which is far different 



6 PLEASANT THOUGHTS. 

from humiliation, than any furious be- 
rating of ourselves can ever do. 

Unpleasant things have their mission, 
but, that accomplished, let them be dis- 
missed. There is not only fine phi- 
losophy in this, but we have a distinct 
Scripture word for it : " Whatsoever 
things are lovely and of good report, 
think on these things ; " which must ex- 
clude thoughts about unlovely things, 
all " envying and grieving at the good of 
our neighbor," and all petulant recall of 
what we have been denied or deprived. 

To have pleasant thoughts in plenty, 
one must lay by in store, and be quick 
about it. And oh, the fresh occasions 
each passing daytime brings, when " joy 
comes to dwell with common things," 
and we are daily loaded with benefits ! 

Think of the bounty and beauty of 
all out-doors, and the gladness of seeing 
and sharing it. Think of the comfort of 
home life, its confidence, its small cour- 
tesies and loving-kindness ; the gener- 



PLEASAXT THOUGHTS. 7 

ous appreciation of friends, and the 
sympathy that foredates our call. Re- 
member the providential interventions 
in small things, preventing annoyance 
as well as disaster, and ordering minute 
details that make the perfection of our 
good times, in unexpected or planned- 
for outings and recreations. Note the 
opportunities always opening, the sheaves 
safe in the garner and the seed still in 
the hand for sowing, and give thanks for 
all. 

Think of the unsought and undeserved 
privileges, associations, and companion- 
ships, new acquaintances, goodly fellow- 
ships, widening circles of influence and 
effort ; the letters and the messages, and 
the "glimpses through life's windows/ 1 
which belong to every life. For surely 
there is no life without its windows. If 
there be but one, it is a skylight, and 
opens to the sun. 

Meditating* on such things as these 
will fill up the measure of pleasant 



o GOOD WISHES. 

thoughts, and furnish the heart with 
material to build a habitation, while the 
unhindered hands are busy with homely 
duties or sacred ministry. If every 
member of the family circle were of this 
mind, and did after this manner, would 
not life be happy and harmonious ? 
Could any but songs of thanksgiving 
rise from " nests of pleasant thoughts " ? 
As character and conduct depend upon 
habitual thinking, and as " the duty of 
being pleasant " rests upon all, let us 
build these nests of pleasant thoughts 
and abide therein. " Home-keeping 
hearts are best/' sheltered in such a 
nest. 

Among the buds and blooms of spring, 
The happy birds exultant sing, 
As if rich fortunes from their throats 
They scattered with their lavish notes. 



THE ANGELS' SONG. 9 

But who expects a bird to bring 
Substantial good on fluttering wing ? 
Among the blossoms, with their song, 
They cheer the heart the summer long. 

Good wishes, love-thoughts, greeting- 
words, 
I think are something like the birds : 
They bring no real, substantial good, 
Yet who would spare them if he could ? 
The winged thoughts that seek the sky. 
These are the sweetest ones that fly. 
May these, with sympathetic song, 
Make glad the heart the season long. 



2Trje Sngcls' <$ong. 

Of old the starry Syrian skies, 
Above the shepherds bending, 

Were opened to their wondering gaze, 
While angel voices blending. 

Proclaimed good tidings of great joy, 
All other songs transcending. 



IO A CHRISTMAS WISH. 

None other than angelic tongues 

Could utter forth the storv, 
For mortals knew not of the birth 

Of Christ the Lord of glory, 
Descending as a babe to save 

A world in sin grown hoary. 

The echo of the angel-song 

Through all the world is sounding, 

Repeated now by human lips 
In gladness more abounding, 

The tidings run — " Good will toward 
men," 
The darkened earth surrounding. 

a (Christmas JIHiafj. 

May all the bells ring joy and peace, 
And every earthly clamor cease, 

For you on Christmas Day. 
May every fret and care draw back, 
That nothing joyous you may lack 

From dawn till evening gray. 



FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. II 

Jringeg on tfje Garments* 

Fringes are not necessarily fripperies. 
The innate love of decoration and dainty 
finish to which the feminine mind con- 
fesses, need not degenerate into tawdry 
embellishment nor extravagant outlay. 
It is not proof positive that a woman is 
devoted to the pomps and vanities be- 
cause she makes herself comely for lov- 
ing eyes, with a finishing touch of ribbon 
or jet upon her apparel, or mayhap a 
garden flower, after weightier matters 
have been first considered. One little 
glint of becoming color, or a bit of grace- 
ful drapery, may make more impression 
than the whole excellent quality of the 
sober and serviceable gown. It is a mat- 
ter worthy of note, that the Lord took 
thought for raiment in the earlier days, 
and prescribed the pattern. He not only 
gave commandment concerning the high 
priest's garments of blue and purple and 
scarlet and fine-twined linen, embroi- 



12 FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 

dered with gold in cunning work, and 
draped with the curious girdle of the 
ephod, but he ordered the people's com- 
mon dress. " Speak unto the children 
of Israel, and bid them that they make 
them fringes in the borders of their 
garments, and that they put upon the 
fringe of the borders a ribband of blue." 
Think of a bit of sky-color on the trail- 
ing hem of a work-day robe. And to 
what purpose ? " That ye may look 
upon it, and remember all the com- 
mandments of the Lord, and do them." 
With us, alas, beauty of apparel is apt 
to be a distraction ; but with the reverent 
Jew, the fairest ornament he wore was a 
reminder of his allegiance and love. No 
disfiguring cowl nor hempen girdle rude 
were signs of bondage to any rites, but 
a fringe and a ribbon of blue signalled 
to passers-by, his race and his religion. 
From the hem of the high priest's gar- 
ment hung golden bells and pomegran- 
ates, when he ministered within the 



FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 13 



veil where none might follow, but the 
fringes were for the common people and 
for every day. How our God must love 
the loveliness he lavishes so freely! The 
rudest hillside edges droop with fringe 
of grasses and flower-bells ; the river sets 
a ribbon of blue along the hem of the 
bordering fields ; the barest mountain 
fringes out at the base with blossom- 
starred valleys; and the hidden spring- 
holds up its goblet of unfailing cheer with 
a fringe of ferns about the rocky brim. 

Should the soul wrap itself austerely, 
and be content with utility and integrity? 
It may do so, and be saved. It may do 
so, and be useful and highly respected, 
even influential and esteemed. But will 
it be " lovely and of good report " ? The 
gentle courtesies, small and sweet, the 
refinements of considerateness, the deli- 
cate amenities of life, like fair embroid- 
ery work, should "adorn the doctrine" 
which rugged conscientiousness, un- 
swerving will, and diligent endeavor 
should strenuously assert. 



14 FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 

The King's daughter must first be all 
glorious within, but afterward " she shall 
be brought to the King in raiment of 
needlework. " He may accept the work 
of her hands, although she come un- 
adorned ; but let her come as she is 
called, in clothing of wrought gold, "so 
shall the King greatly desire her beauty." 
Therefore, " let the beauty of the Lord 
our God be upon us," as well as his 
strength and fear. 

If one should go about to separate the 
filaments of fringe that should be upon 
the garments, there will be found among 
the shining threads habitual cheerfulness 
at home. One may be strictly conscien- 
tious and sturdily just, and yet carry 
sometimes such a " February face, so 
full of frost and storm and cloudiness," 
that mental thermometers thereabouts 
feel the instant chill. No one would 
think of making merry with the owner 
of such a face, nor of venting any of 
the happy nonsense that is oftenest the 



FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 15 



finest sense in the household where cares 
are heavy enough. The persistent habit 
of making the best of circumstances, the 
practice of noticing pleasant things, rec- 
ognizing small services, and appreciating 
even fruitless efforts, will fringe a week- 
day dress with brightness. 

Good-morning, good-night, thank you, 
if you please, and I am sorry, may be 
accounted slender threads ; but they are 
golden, and they glisten. Life's home- 
spun might be durable and vastly service- 
able without them, but it will be like the 
" sad-colored cloth " of pilgrim days. It 
is essential to be good ; but it is Christ- 
like to be gracious, and most of all in 
the home. The Jew's garment-fringe 
was not basted on when he went to tem- 
ple or tabernacle. It was to be always 
"upon the four quarters of the vesture 
wherewith he covered himself," a per- 
petual memorial. 

The ability to receive gracefully, to 
"take for love's sweet sake," makes a 



1 6 FRINGES ON THE GARMENTS. 

most desirable fringe, as does the gift 
of refusing kindly ; for " a good asker 
deserves a good nay-say." 

To be easily pleased, ties another 
bright thread in the fringe. The happy 
faculty of responding heartily to efforts 
in one's behalf, and the faculty of enjoy- 
ing and of finding small pleasures, sets 
a ribbon of blue around the garment's 
hem. One might belong to the noble 
army of martyrs without it, and live 
greatly; but with it she will live gra- 
ciously and winsomely. The fringes on 
the garment make one beloved at home 
as well as admired abroad. 

Then hearken and consider, O daughter of the 
King, 

Be mindful of thy broid'ries, while daily min- 
ist'ring. 

Be not withal contented, if lacking spot or stain, 

Thy common week-day garments in others' eyes 
remain ; 

Let all the gentle courtesies, each small obser- 
vance sweet, 

Make daily life a blessing, abiding and complete. 



SONGS WITHOUT LISTENERS. 1 7 



Songs EHtti)0ut Efstnurs. 

The wind is setting the leaves a-quiver, 
Whispering secrets tender and sweet ; 

The branches feel a delicious shiver, 
Bending under the viewless feet; 

The brook runs on with a rush of laughter, 

The jubilant bird-notes follow after — 
This I hear from a mossy seat. 

But far beyond me the light wind passes, 
Birds fly on with their happy songs ; 

The rippling water laughs at the grasses, 
Far away, and the whole day long : 

Yet who will listen to fair birds sin^insr, 

And all these sounds through the silence 
ringing ? 
Surely the music suffers wrong. 



It does not die for the want of a hearer, 
Sweet bird-music, or insect whir, 

The rustle of leaves as the wind comes 
nearer, 
Filling the air with a pleasant stir. 



1 8 MINIKIN MISERIES. 

They are not lost, these beautiful voices ; 

The Lord himself in their sound rejoices, 

To his good pleasure they minister. 

And how do we know but life's empty 
places 
Ring with songs in the self-same way ? 
If we could listen behind their faces, 
Silent souls might a sound betray ; 
And a wordless burden of praise and 

pleading, 
No human or curious listener needing, 
Rises to heaven the long, long day. 



iHtntfem JHtsetteg. 

One able-bodied giant maybe met and 
slain with great satisfaction ; but a small 
army of imps with pin-point spears, de- 
ploying, reappearing, scoffing, and teas- 
ing, may baffle the finest field-drill, and 
dishearten the stoutest soldier that ever 
drew sword. 



MINIKIN MISERIES. 



*9 



" We regretted three hours wasted at 
the coach-office," writes Maria Edge- 
worth in one of those ,; Letters " edited 
by Augustus Hare, which every one has 
read or intends to read; ''but these are 
among the minikin miseries of life." 

" Minikin miseries ! " Doesn't every- 
body know that they are legion ? They 
swarm and crowd and clamor about, 
they peer and pounce, they leer and leap 
out, upon all occasions, drawing blood 
by the drop, and eluding capture and 
control in the most derisive and exaspe- 
rating fashion. Giants command a cer- 
tain respect, and enlist the highest powers 
against them ; but the contemptible min- 
ikins are beneath notice. It is humiliat- 
ing to be bothered, buffeted, and bruised 
by them ; yet we are. 

" Three wasted hours ! " What an ac- 
cumulation of grudged and miserable 
minutes ! Miss Edgeworth w r as wise 
enough to name the miseries and pass 
on. There are serene heights which the 



20 MINIKIN MISERIES. 

wriggling imps cannot storm, but the 
lower levels of life are beset continually. 

Minikin miseries infest the kitchen. 
A mislaid utensil, a forgotten supply of 
the simplest thing, a pinch of salt too 
much or too little, an untimely ring at 
the front door that delays the bread just 
ready for the oven, a hurried movement 
that cuts the ringer or burns the hand, 
the offending odor of burning vegetables 
or scorching cake, are a few of many. 
Isn't it astonishing how one may be put 
out or put about by them ? Who that 
keeps a journal of events, and chronicles 
battles and victories, would ever think 
of recording skirmishes with the mini- 
kins ? Yet the ordinary woman knows 
well the discomfiture and disquietude 
that they bring, till she wonders if she 
can be a Christian at all, when such 
trifles so move her. 

There are other minikins that spring 
out suddenly, in the home and by the 
way. One's own inadvertence may chal- 



MINIKIN MISERIES. 21 

lenge them, but that is small consolation. 
The teasing physical discomfort, not dis- 
tinct enough to call for remedy ; the re- 
pugnance felt toward certain duties ; the 
aversion to effort ; the irritation that fol- 
lows failure to accomplish all one has 
planned, — these are distressing in pro- 
portion to the tendency to " take things 
hard.'' The uncomfortable conscious- 
ness of anything amiss, or inappropriate 
to the occasion, in one's apparel ; the 
necessity of wearing unbecoming things, 
or gloves that do not quite fit, when one 
dotes on trimness and inconspicuous- 
ness ; the too candid remark upon hag- 
gard looks; the mortification of being 
caught in the disarray of house-cleaning- 
time, when one knows she never can 
look regal in sweeping-caps, with un- 
mistakably dust-marked face ; the antag- 
onism, entirely natural, to worn carpets 
and decrepit furniture ; the humiliation 
of being misunderstood when one has 
said preciselv the wrong thing, and the 



22 MINIKIN MISERIES. 

chance to correct a bad impression or 
rectify an error is gone ; the weariness 
of listening to vain repetitions of other 
people's miseries ; the irresistible desire 
to straighten out crooked things that one 
can 't lay hands on ; the sensitiveness that 
makes one wince at discordant notes or 
colors — ah, what an army of impish, agile 
minikins beset the path of every day ! 

Every one knows that they are but for 
a day, and that small discomforts and 
rasping, irritating trifles will speedily 
pass away. Nevertheless, the pin-pricks 
sting. The hope of ease to-morrow is a 
plaster for the hurt, not a shield against 
the thrust of to-day. 

There are tranquil souls who dwell 
on reposeful heights above these trifles. 
Blessings on them. Really it is a mighty 
achievement "not to mind" the mini- 
kins, or to bear them beautifully as did 
Maria Edgeworth — at least, she did in 
the book. It is easy to do it on paper; 
but she must have taken all things in 



MINIKIN MISERIES. 23 

sunny humor, according to convincing 
testimony. Others have done likewise, 
clad in the invulnerable habit of cheer- 
ful acquiescence, or resolute resistance, 
as the case required. 

But there are others as well-meaning, 
but not as well-balanced, who suffer posi- 
tive pain from the minikin pin-pricks, and 
ignominious defeat in many a daily as- 
sault. What shall these do, poor souls ? 

Nothing is gained by ignoring the 
enemy, whether the forces be giants or 
imps. Be on guard, and the battle is 
half won. Then, too, it helps wonderfully 
to put these minikin miseries in the right 
place. They are indeed among those op- 
posing forcjes that try and test the soul, 
and strengthen it through the tug of war. 
They do seem mean and small, and one 
is ashamed and mortified to think of 
minding them ; but, in truth, it is heroic 
to resist and overcome them. Xo flags 
fly, and no trumpets blow, to announce 
the victory ; but every self-conquest is 



24 A WINTER PARABLE. 

recorded by One who "knoweth our 
frame ; " and life's small drudgeries, ag- 
gravations, and incidentals, its minikin 
miseries, are recognized as foes that we 
must face, while for their rout and full 
defeat " He giveth more grace." 



a EHinter Parable. 

How still it is ! Did ever shout 
Of summer friends ring blithely out ? 
The echoes of the long ago 
Are muffled in the fallen snow ; 
The hills, through many a day and night, 
Have kept their fleecy garments white ; 
The gorge between is heaped and piled 
With drifts fantastic, wind-beguiled. 
The narrow footway, lost or strayed, 
Reveals one track, where he assayed — 
Our venturous guide — but yesterday 
To pass along the untrodden way. 
And yet the pathway, as of old, 
Leads on, through wonders manifold, 



A WINTER PARABLE. 2$ 

Until the rocky cave we win, 
And walls familiar shut us in. 

But never in the bloom of May, 
Nor ever in midsummer day, 
Amid the wealth of living green, 
Was sight so fair by mortal seen. 
O miracle of ice and frost, 
This columned splendor, light-embossed ! 
All common words of praise are lost ! 
The drops that in the summer fall, 
And lose themselves in channels small, 
Have felt the Frost-King's icy spell, 
And turned to jewels as they fell. 
Ah, plashing drops, to purpose spilt, 
What crystal marvels ye have built ; 
Two pillars, of such measurement 
We may not guess their full extent, 
With flutings fine, and traceries rare, 
And frostings all beyond compare. 

But hark to the murmur of water ! 
That musical murmur we know. 

Where is it ? Where is it ? 

There is it ? There is it ? 



26 A WINTER PARABLE. 

Yes ; it is tinkling and rippling and 
sprinkling, 

Making soft laughter below, 

Melodious laughter below. 
The spring from above never ceases to 
flow ; 

A way it will find, 

Through the shaft or behind, 

Rippling in laughter below ; 
And slipping past the crystal bolts, 

Right onward doth it go, 

Down deep beneath the snow. 
Talk not of silence while brooklets are 
singing, 

All softly, down under the snow. 
Grieve not because the sight and tone, 
By man unheard, unseen, unknown, 
Are beautiful to God alone. 

But now another sweet surprise 

Lies hidden under snowy guise. 

The bank where ferns are wont to grow 

Is swept of drifted depths of snow, 

And lo ! some green things growing there, 



A WINTER PARABLE. 27 

A summer look of beauty wear. 
The winter parable is old. 
And yet may often be retold : 
Some pleasant growths resist the cold. 
And often that which seems to chill. 
Protects and serves and blesses still. 
Yet mark — the roots must lie below. 
Go where the ferns are wont to grow. 
If you would find them neath the snow. 

But winter twilight comes apace ; 

And evening shadows interlace 

The leafless branches, lifted high 

Like pleading arms against the sky. 

Our zigzag track we soon retrace. 

Albeit with uncertain grace. 

The entrance to the gorge we reach. 

And homeward go too glad for speech ; 

While silent stars behold again 

The marble beautv of the 2"len, 

And through the silence and the snow 

The living waters softly flow ! 

(" Rocky Glen,'' in midwinter.) 



28 "THE BRIGHT BATTALIONS:' 

" W$i JSrfgfjt Battalion*." 

" He fought with the bright battal- 
ions " is the enthusiastic tribute of a 
biographer in setting forth the sunny 
character of a brilliant writer and be- 
loved friend. This, too, is added by 
way of emphasis, " He rejoiced in Ful- 
ler's maxim, ' An ounce of cheerfulness 
is worth a pound of sadness to serve 
God with.'" 

Every one who fights at all, aims at 
victory. Surely, then, it is worth while 
to be arrayed with those most certain to 
win it. Young soldiers, and all newly 
enlisted ones, will do well to consider 
with whom they march. 

Do look at the "bright battalions"! 
Faith belongs to their ranks, and sings 
the song of triumph in advance. Doubt 
never led a conquering army in the 
world. Can any one encourage his fel- 
low by saying, " Fight on, you must win, 
you shall overcome," in the battle with 



'■-THE BRIGHT BATTALIONS.'' 29 

sin, with fear or difficulty, while his face, 
his conduct, and his very air show that 
he does not believe in the prospect him- 
self, nor expect the victory for himself 
or others ? Can a discouraged heart un- 
dertake anything worth doing, or lead 
another to attempt it ? Certainly not. It 
is confidence that conquers, — confidence 
in the cause, the final triumph, and, most 
of all, in the Great Leader of the bright 
battalions of truth and righteousness. 

Hope also belongs to the bright ranks, 
and there is no room for melancholy in 
the same company. How can despon- 
dency lift up the fallen, or make a gal- 
lant charge against the forces of evil ? 
Can gloom brighten anybody ? Nay, 
verily. Whoever goes forth to help 
those in need, and to right the wrongs 
of the oppressed, must do it with a hope- 
ful spirit, and with some expectation of 
doing service, or he will be unfit for the 
work, and will be sure to fail. Those 
who look on the dark side, and take the 



30 "THE BRIGHT BATTALIONS." 

worst views of life, are not the ones to 
whom others turn in trouble, as chosen 
leaders into the light. The charity that 
"hopeth all things" accomplishes most. 

Love also marches with Faith and 
Hope. This is the all-conquering, all- 
controlling power. What triumphs Love 
wins over selfishness, unkindness, and all 
forms of sin ! But Love is not puffed up 
over victories ; it is lowly enough to 
stoop to the lowest, and take a stand for 
the humblest. It is the light of heaven 
that makes Love radiant. It belongs to 
the bright battalions that conquer " In 
His Name." 

Don't forget the " ounce of cheerful- 
ness to serve God with." A pound 
might be better, to be sure ; but an ounce 
of it is far more effective than a pound 
of sadness. " Put a cheerful courage 
on," whatever the opposing forces and 
threatening dangers, in life's constant 
battle. To prophesy evil and forebode 
defeat, may precipitate the very things 



ON THE HEIGHTS. 3 1 

feared, by unfitting for the fight. The 
blessed contagion of cheerfulness is a 
good thing to spread. 

Is there, indeed, nothing to discourage 
and dishearten in the world and in the 
work for others ? Oh, yes, on every hand. 
But in order to overcome the powers of 
darkness, the good soldier is commanded 
to "put on the armor of light."' Let 
every would-be conqueror wear it, and. 
in the unceasing conflict, " fight with the 
bright battalions.' 7 



©n <Trjc IfcJn'rrfjts. 

The beautiful bending river, 

The billows of changing green. 
The light where the sunbeams quiver. 

The shadows that lie between. 
Are seen from the heights above them. 

Where lieth a charmed repose. 
And one can but look and love them 

From dawn till the davtime's close. 



3 2 ON THE HEIGHTS. 

The fields in the sunlight golden, 

Respond to the smiling sky; 
The tale is a story olden, 

The harvester's joy is nigh. 
The gold of the sheaf and stubble 

Lies brilliant against the green ; 
The stress of the toil and trouble 

Is gone from the happy scene. 

The heights overlook the beauty ; 

Refreshment and rest are here ; 
But some one toiled at his duty, 

And yonder the fruits appear. 
The peace of the heights will rest thee, 

With a look beyond and below ; 
But the call of the field will test thee, 

And ultimate fruit will show. 

So hark, for a season's quiet, 

To the syllables, soft and sweet, 
Where the whispering breezes riot, 

And the birds for their chorus meet. 
In the hush of the heights unbroken, 

Recover thy strength, and then, 
When the ringing word is spoken, 

Hie down to the fields again. 



UNWEIGHED VESSELS. 33 

iHntnetg^etJ Frsscls. 

The service of the house of the Lord 
at Jerusalem required many vessels of 
divers sorts. So David prepared with 
all his might, and Solomon builded 
and finished and furnished, as became 
his royal estate. 

There were vessels of gold for supreme 
uses, and " silver basins of a second 
sort " for commoner service. Besides all 
these, there were pots and shovels, and 
all manner of basins of bright brass, 
which Hiram of Tyre provided ; and 
" Solomon left all the vessels unweighed. 
because they were exceeding many; 
neither was the weight of the brass 
found out,'' — searched out. the margin 
has it, — for the weight might have been 
discovered by some process, had it been 
needful. But no search was made, and 
the vessels of brass were left unweighed. 

Is it not so in the temple-service of 
to-dav ? It is the Horv of it that its 



34 UNWEIGHED VESSELS. 

vessels are "exceeding many;*' what 
matter if some go unweighed and un- 
counted ? The pots and shovels are 
provided, the basins are ready, and the 
small drudgeries as well as the dignities 
of church life are maintained, though 
few know how, or think to inquire. 

Somebodv attends to the collecting, 
the printing, the repairs. Some one 
looks after refractory water-pipes and de- 
praved furnaces, notifies and instructs 
the janitor upon special occasions, and 
sees that all things are done decently 
and in order. Somebody is on the alert 
for small opportunities to make wor- 
shippers more comfortable, to welcome 
the stranger, to hand a hymn-book, close 
a creaking door quietly, prevent inter- 
ruptions, and relieve awkward situations. 

Willing and womanly hands lend them- 
selves to the homeliest incidentals, and 
furbish up, as well as furnish newly. 
Carpets are mended and turned and re- 
sewcd with vast contrivance, and pew- 



UNWEIGHED VESSELS. 35 

cushions toilsomely made over for many 
to enjoy in serene comfort, unaware of 
the back-break that they cost, or the un- 
praised labor of the hands that renovated 
and refashioned the worn belongings of 
the sanctuary. The services are exceed- 
ing many, but they are not counted up. 
If common conveniences were lacking, 
and decencies and decorations forgotten, 
what an outcry there would be ! Things 
missed are followed by quick complaint ; 
while those provided, no one dreams how 
perhaps, are not always as quickly rec- 
ognized, and received with thanks. 

Many a home missionary teacher has 
had to do with other vessels than even 
the "silver basins of the second sort " 
in her work, as the janitor-service ren- 
dered, the struggles with smoky stoves 
and degenerate pipes, and other difficul- 
ties abundantly testify. Commonplace, 
unnoticed things, are not wrought with- 
out time and pains. Laborers toiled in 
the plain of Jordan, ■' in the clay ground 



j6 UNWEIGHED VESSELS. 

between Succoth and Zarthan," many 
a long day before all those unweighed 
vessels were ready for temple use. It 
was no child's play to shape and polish 
them, for they were of " scoured brass." 

In the social world, there is ample oc- 
casion for the common and uncounted 
services, which have their place among 
the more formal and imposing obser- 
vances, as certainly as the brass pots and 
shovels had their uses in the temple- 
plenishing, which also included golden 
chargers, bowls, and cups. 

Some one must have tact enough to 
keep unpleasant objects and subjects 
out of sight, attend to " Mrs. Malaprop," 
look after the odd ones, meet little emer- 
gencies with pins or a needle, with a 
mollifying word or a timely explanation, 
as the case requires, and fill in corners 
generally with unobstrusive self-forget- 
fulness, warding off small catastrophes, 
or putting a cushion under impending 
jolts and jars, in order to secure and 



UNWEIGHED VESSELS. 37 

conserve the good times that people 
have together, on social pleasures bent. 
These small courtesies and kindnesses 
are never paraded. Who exhibits the 
kitchen utensils at a party ? Yet with- 
out them where had been the dainty 
fare ? The people who minister in these 
minute yet helpful ways, furnish vessels 
of bright brass that have never been 
weighed. 

But it is in the home life that the 
unweighed vessels are multiplied and 
do constant service. Who counts the 
homely duties of the house-mother, or 
numbers the details of her work ? Who 
can measure the opportunities of the 
big sister ? Somebody must put things 
to rights after heedless feet and fingers. 
Some one must take "the stitch in 
time," and often the "nine stitches" 
too, that could not be saved betimes. 
Somebody must notice and do the hun- 
dred odds and ends of home-keeping, 
— fasten loose threads, tie up cut fingers, 



3 8 UNWEIGHED VESSELS. 

bathe bruises, soothe wounded feelings, 
spur the indolent, restrain the over- 
eager, meet emergencies on the mo- 
ment, and be ready always for one 
thing more, where there is a houseful 
to be tended, taught, feci, and fondled, 
amused, instructed, and loved through 
everything, unfailingly. These indispen 
sables are not of the nature of golden 
censers nor silver cups ; yet many a ves- 
sel of scoured brass has proved a cup of 
loving service, carrying refreshment to 
little ones, served in the name of Him 
by whom the nameless but not unno- 
ticed ministry shall be at last rewarded. 
The incidental accommodation of a 
neighbor, the time given to little extras 
that could not be claimed by right, the 
pleasant word sweetening the service, 
the bit of encouragement given, and the 
timely admonition when it was not the 
hour for preaching-service and there was 
no congregation assembled, may all be 
set to the account of the " unweighed ves- 



UNWEIGHED VESSELS 39 

sels." The doers of such small deeds 
never stop to appraise them ; perhaps 
the receivers do not always appreciate 
them, but they are " exceeding many.'' 
In Ezra's time there were thirty basins 
of gold, and four hundred and ten "sil- 
ver basins of a second sort," with other 
treasures ; but perhaps Nebuchadnezzar 
thought it not worth while to carry off 
the pots and shovels of bright brass. 
Nevertheless, they answered their pur- 
pose in their time. A golden charger 
would have served but poorly in remov- 
ing ashes from the altar. 

But the cups of loving service, of what- 
ever sort, are unforgotten. The divine 
scales are accurate. Me who k, taketh 
up the isles as a very little thing " is 
not obliged to search out the weight of 
the brass vessels ; and He knows, too, 
what is in them, many a time, for 'His 
eye seeth every precious thing." 

Hiram's servants toiled "in the clay 
ground of Jordan " for hire ; but the 



4° UNSOUGHT HAPPINESS. 

King's children serve everywhere for love, 
and not to be seen of men. Pots, shov- 
els, and basins are needed, and thev are 
furnished ; but the Father who seeth in 
secret keeps account. There are no un- 
weighed vessels in the heavenly record. 
Why are they so precious ? Because 
" holiness to the Lord " is " upon the 
pots ; " and a day is promised when even 
"the pots in the Lord's house shall be 
like the bowls before the altar.' , 



JHnsoitjjrjt P?appuu*0. 

Try to breathe in the fragrance of 
the blossoming grape, or to smell it, as 
the saying goes, and it is next to im- 
possible to detect the exquisite and deli- 
cate perfume. So the faint, elusive odor 
of the trailing arbutus evades the de- 
termined effort to inhale and enjoy it. 
But perhaps in one moment more the 
sense is taken unawares, and perceives 



" THE SERVANTS KNEW:' 4 1 

the delicious fragrance, while the long- 
drawn breath of satisfaction testifies in- 
voluntarily to the delight. 

Thus it is with happiness, many and 
many a time. It eludes the too-eager 
and premeditated search : the very pur- 
suit seems to prevent the realization. 
But sometimes, when going upon stern- 
er errands, with no thought of finding 
pleasure, but simply of doing duty, sud- 
denly the unsought joy meets us on the 
way, with breath as sweet as the strange, 
delicious odor of the unobtrusive bloom 
upon the vine, or of the shy Mayflower 
that trails along the sheltered places in 
the spring. 

" E\)t £erbants EHfjicfj Drcto tljc OEatcr 
**cfo. M (JoilN , 9>) 

The guests at the marriage supper 

Detected the flavor fine, 
But " the servants which drew the water/' 

Knew the miracle of the wine. 



4 2 " HOPE-FA IL URE." 

" Whatever He saith to you, do it," 
" He knoweth what He will do ; " 

And many a beautiful secret 
The Lord will reveal to you. 

The jars that we fill with water 

Shall minister royal wine ; 
We shall know and dispense the gladness 

Of miracles most divine. 
And we shall rejoice hereafter, 

If we " filled them up to the brim ; " 
And the wine of heaven will be sweeter 

When we "drink it new with Him." 

" p?ope — JFailure." 

" Hope deferred maketh the heart 
sick." What, then, shall be said of its 
total failure ? An eminent writer of the 
day says this of it : " More people die 
from lack of encouragement than any- 
thing else. They call it heart-failure, but 
it is hope-failure." Isn't this pitiful? 

The command to " reprove, rebuke, 



« HOPE-FAIL UREr 43 

and exhort " requires small self-denial. 
mayhap. It comes rather natural to 
"warn the unruly," and to hand over 
the practical application of thousands of 
sermons to other hearers ; and there is a 
great clearing of skirts, in the matter of 
responsibility, in telling other folks what 
to do. We know exactly what should or 
should not be done, and know how to 
gauge failures accurately, too ! But the 
obligation to " comfort one another." 
and to " do good and to communicate," 
is no less binding. To communicate is 
to share in common, dividing up so that 
the good will go round ; and what is bet- 
ter to pass on than hope and courage ? 
These are not marketable commodities, 
but must be given away, though not 
without cost, perhaps, to the giver. The 
receiver can only take gratefully the of- 
fered elixir that quickens life into some- 
thing worth having. 

Even where there is little to commend, 
it is possible to encourage. Children 



44 " HOPE-FA IL URE" 

must be thus nurtured into hopefulness. 
Even after failure, praise the effort, say- 
ing, " You did well to try, though you 
did not succeed. Try again, and you 
will surely do better." A deal of en- 
couraging is often needful, but then there 
is nothing for it but to " put to more 
strength." Usually, however, hope is 
easily nourished. A single word or look 
of approval, will hearten up the fainting 
courage for fresh endeavor. 

" She does very well under the cir- 
cumstances," says one of Mrs. Whit- 
ney's quaint characters, " but that's the 
trouble — she's always under a lot of 
them ; she never gets above the circum- 
stances at all." Some are stimulated by 
difficulties, but to others they are de- 
pressing; and this lays the duty to help, 
upon the exuberant, expectant spirit that 
gives courage by mere contact. But 
there must be a point of contact, " con- 
tagion begins there." 

Discouragement is deadly. Its physi- 



" HOPE-FAIL UREP 45 

cal effect is evident, as well as its men- 
tal result. So many suffer from it, that 
to be widely useful, one must " practise 
the grace and virtue of praise " at home 
and abroad. A little expression of con- 
fidence beforehand will often nerve a 
timid spirit to successful effort. " I am 
sure that you will do well " may carry a 
shy child bravely through some dreaded 
performance, where a slight show of dis- 
trust might lead to a hopeless effort, 
almost sure to end in failure. 

Doubtless there is a quantity of over- 
weening conceit in the world that ought 
to be put down and kept under ; but it is 
no less true that a multitude of sensitive 
souls in the homes, and in all circles 
of friends and acquaintances, positively 
suffer from self-distrust. Sceptical as to 
their own ability, hampered by hinder- 
ing conditions, cast down by repeated 
failures, they need, in school-boy phrase, 
to be "encouraged up a lot,"' in order to 
go on at all — yes. k ' encouraged up," 



46 " HOPE-FA IL UREP 

lured, led, lifted into hopefulness, out of 
the despondency that cries out " There's 
no use in trying.' 7 

When the buoyancy of hope is lost, en- 
couragement must come from without, or 
the pulses will grow fainter and fainter, 
and " hope-failure " may be the piteous 
end. It will not do to give encourage- 
ment only " to him that asketh ; " hope- 
lessness is dumb, and the mute appeal 
of him that needeth, whether he voice 
the cry or not, should meet with sympa- 
thetic response. 

No occupation or profession is con- 
sidered more honorable than that of 
nursing, and it is woman's especial pre- 
rogative to care for the sick and the 
convalescent. In the world's great hos- 
pital of wounded spirits, there is full 
scope for the exercise of her gifts. 
Trained nurses are in demand here also; 
and one may well put herself under the 
drill of the God of all comfort and the 
God of hope, for the swift intuitions, 



" HOPE-FAIL URE" 47 

the ready application of remedies, the 
manifold means and methods of healing, 
requisite in helping discouraged hearts 
along life's trodden way. Hope-failure 
is not absolute till it reaches the last 
pulse-beat; but long before that, preven- 
tion by the ounce should forestall the 
need of cure by the pound. Blessings 
on the cheerful souls, " saved by hope," 
and well-schooled in the practice of en- 
couragement, who can invest and invig- 
orate others with their expectant spirits, 
and who make a business of giving tonic 
treatment to fainting hope. Jt takes an 
observant eye, a discerning and discrim- 
inating spirit, and a " heart at leisure 
from itself," to discover patients suffer- 
ing from the sickness of hope deferred 
or failing, for they are not all gathered 
and registered in a ward by themselves. 
Nevertheless, to give one's self up to 
encouraging all sorts and conditions of 
disheartened people is a mission worthy 
of the highest talents, and worth all it 



48 « HOPE-FAIL UREP 

# 

costs. There are uncounted openings 
for going into " The Cheering-up Busi- 
ness," with hope, faith, and courage 
as indispensable capital, which, being 
" loaned out," may save many from des 
perate failure, and will return vast rates 
of interest upon the investment. 

It is not enough to refrain from giving 
a hopeless fellow-mortal another push 
downward ; we must lift up and help on. 
The sin of omission may have fatal re- 
sults ; and " ye did it not " may be the sor- 
rowful reproach, after a lost opportunity. 

" There is that withholdeth more than 
is meet'' of commendation, encourage- 
ment, and good cheer ; but " it tendeth 
to poverty ' by and by. They are poor 
indeed who have no memories of help 
given, and gratitude received, laid up in 
store by them. 

What tender pity is lavished upon the 
ended struggles of one who sinks dis- 
heartened, a pathetic victim of hope- 
failure. To what purpose is this waste ? 



THE BRIGHT REFLECTION. 49 

A wealth of sympathy, late outpoured, 
When life is by death exalted, 

Availeth nothing to cheer the way 
Where the tired pilgrim halted. 

"As if life were not sacred too," writes 
George Eliot, speaking of the hallowing 
touch of death, which is too often held 
sacred alone. 

"If I had known," is a useless after- 
thought, when, having passed the way 
we are going but once, we miss the 
chance to cheer a fellow-traveller. Re- 
solve instead to — 

Keep the hope-song ringing, 
And to watch along the way 

For the little needs up-springing 
In the path of every day. 



Eijc Brtgijt Reflection. 

In the British Art Exhibit at the 
Columbian Exposition, there was a re- 
markable picture of a blacksmith's shop. 
All the homely details — the smoky walls 



50 THE BRIGHT REFLECTION. 

and rafters, the lurking shadows, the 
forms and faces of the men showing in 
the half-lights — were portrayed with sin- 
gular fidelity. 

But the greatest artistic triumph ap- 
peared in the marvellous reflection upon 
a boy's face, of light from an unseen 
forge. The ruddy glow, illuminating the 
sturdy figure and honest features of the 
rugged fellow, busy with his work, was 
simply wonderful. No need to picture 
the red flames of the forge beyond; their 
existence was distinctly evident. The 
bright reflection proved their presence 
and their power. 

So it is always. A vivid reflection 
is invincible proof of light somewhere. 
Should not the Children of Light give 
this testimony daily? While hands are 
busy with common work, the face may 
shine with radiant reflection of light di- 
vine, and the quiet life may be illumi- 
nated, if the worker will keep near to the 
Unseen Source. 



GOOD-MORNING. 5 l 

Good-morning ! Long the nig-ht may 

be, 
"Until day break and shadows flee ; " 
But, measured by the pulse of time. 
Alike the day and night hours chime, 
Though tired hearts and wearied strength 
Accuse them of unequal length. 

Good-morning ! As the night is past, 
And sunlight glory comes at last, 
So. of our darkness and dismay, 
We may be able soon to say, 
"This too, at last, has passed away." 

Good-morning ! May the day be fair, 
With grace and gladness everywhere ; 
And all life's errands lead your feet 
In pleasant paths of service sweet, 
Till evening's curtain, shadow-wrought, 
With shining stars is deftly caught, 
And heavenly voices, understood, 
Proclaim both night and morning 
"good." 



52 THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. 

W$i art of ©bcrloofemg. 

The discriminating art of forge'-ang is 
invaluable, but the art of overlooking 
may take precedence even over this dis- 
tinct aid to happiness. It is well to put 
aside the annoyances of by-past time, 
dropping the remembrance of disagree- 
ables ; but it is better still to pass them 
\y in the beginning, without taking them 
up. Prevent the impression, and there 
will be no occasion to erase it. A molli- 
fying ointment is good for a hurt, but 
better no hurt in need of healing. 

Do not dwell upon unpleasantness 
long enough for it to take a place in the 
convolutions of the brain. Do not scru- 
tinize what is obnoxious, unseemly, or 
disquieting, if nothing is to be gained 
by it save a disturbing memory. Don't 
stop and stoop to examine displeasing 
things along the life-path; keep the eyes 
at higher levels, and overlook the thorn- 
hedges at the sides, taking care to keep 



THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. 53 

the middle of the track so as not to brush 
against them. 

Even excellent people are sometimes 
rather trying. Some are positive and 
persistent in opinions which we, in our 
vast wisdom, know to be wrong of course, 
though, strangely enough, our convic- 
tions fail to be convincing to them. Our 
way is crossed when there seems to be 
no need of it ; small domestic calamities 
are legion, carelessness is culpable; and 
yet, after all, these things in themselves, 
or in their consequences, are not vital. 
If no principle is involved, let them pass. 
Do not mark to-day with futile struggle 
to mend them, nor to-morrow with their 
memory. If they cannot be righted, or 
even resisted, never mind them. This 
one bit of advice is so hard to follow 
that it will be good discipline for a sen- 
sitive soul to practise the precept. Even 
disappointments and hindering interrup- 
tions the resolute sunshine-seer will not 
lay to heart, but will look over and be- 



54 THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. 

yond them to the next bright thing to be 
seen. 

Often the mere recognition of a thing 
seems to give it force and form ; there- 
fore do not notice the apparent slight, 
the covert criticism, or the tokens of 
impatience. Overlook also the little in- 
advertence, the unintentional mistake, 
and the small disaster that cannot be 
retrieved. Taking note of such things 
brings confusion to others and discomfort 
to one's self. The too acutely observant 
spirit is unquiet and overburdened. The 
constant accuser, who calls one to ac- 
count for every slip, and demands endless 
explanations, is a very uncomfortable 
sort of a friend. Overlook the unmeant 
offence, and, with no chance to fester in 
the memory, it will leave no scar behind. 

It is amazing how the vexing things 
of the moment, that seem to grow large 
while we look, sink into insignificance 
by and by. Why give them opportu- 
nity to disturb the present ? Gauge them 



THE ART OF OVERLOOKING. 55 

sensibly by the measure certain to be 
applied in the calmer afterthought, and 
forbear the excited protest, forego the re- 
sentful expression. One cannot always 
be sensible, say you ? Very well. One 
can at least emulate the example of the 
old lady who was i% determined to en- 
deavor to try." 

A discriminating observer of "the 
method " of a mother who had trained a 
large and very energetic family, a diverse 
and tumultuous set indeed, said that 
one secret of the marvellous success was 
'• a judicious amount of letting alone." 
The mother never brought on a contro- 
versy or a clash of wills, when, by pru- 
dent overlooking and good management, 
matters would presently right themselves. 

Some people, it is true, have a happy 
faculty of overlooking ; but all may at- 
tain a certain facility through 'Move, 
which beareth all things, believeth all 
things, hopeth all things, and never 
faileth." 



56 ALLEYWAYS. 

An art, we know, thanks to our bulky 
Websters, is knowledge applied to prac- 
tical purposes. It is aptitude, skill, dex- 
terity, acquired by experience. What 
hourly opportunities common life affords 
for such acquirement. The art of over- 
looking may not belong to arts liberal, 
polite, or fine ; but it is a kindly and use- 
ful one for every day. Cultivate it in 
life's intimate associations, and thus fore- 
stall, in measure, the need of the art of 
forgetting. 

^llegirjagg. 

" Good-evening," said one lady to 
another, as they met upon the crossing 
of a narrow alley that cut through the 
block. 

" Good-evening," was the reply in a 
startled tone. " I beg your pardon ; I 
did not see you at first. I was looking 
at the beautiful view at the end of this 






ALLEYWAYS. 57 

alley, and wondering that I had never 
noticed it before/" 

The first friend turned, and caught a 
glimpse of green bluffs and shapely 
trees showing fair against the sunset 
sky. 

" It is beautiful ! " she exclaimed. 
" Strange that I never saw it before. 
This is our alley." 

" We seldom know what is at the end 
of our alley" was the smiling response, 
and the two parted and passed on. 

True enough. We neither look for 
lovely views nor expect to find them, 
through these narrow ways between 
barns and coal houses, with nothing to 
brighten the back-door aspect. They 
have to do with the drudgeries of life 
altogether ; but they are necessary, and 
they have an outlet into cleaner spaces, 
while the blue sky roofs them over. 

Let us not consider the most uninvit- 
ing alleyway hopelessly forlorn, till wo 
see what is beyond it ; and let us not 



5$ "HIS EYE SEETH." 

miss the view that may be at the end of 
our own. That which lieth nearest is not 
always seen. 

Life has many little homely thorough- 
fares which our front-door callers little 
wot of, and we ourselves are not obliged 
to use them constantly. When we use 
them, let us glance through them ; for, 
though beauty looks in at unexpected 
places, only the observant eye discovers 
it. 

f^fe 3Egc jieetfj lEfaerg Pucfous Ojtng* 

(Job xxviii. 10.) 

The treasures of gold and crystal 

Ungathered by human hand, 
The hidden wealth of the rivers, 

The drift of the unknown strand, 
To the eye of the Lord are open, 

He seeth each precious thing ; 
The soundless depths, and the darkness, 

Their measureless riches bring. 



"HIS EYE SEETH." 59 

In distant and desert places, 

He cares for His precious things ; 
He values the unsought jewels, 

Befitting the brow of kings. 
The secret and guarded treasures, 

Too sacred for mortal eye. 
Are only seen through the window 

That is open toward the sky. 

The "precious faith" of His children, 

Who sees but the Lord alone ? 
The " precious seed " they are sowing, 

He watches, wherever sown. 
The tears and the self-denials, 

The patience and hope and love, 
With never an outward signal, 

He notes and records above. 

But what of the things most precious 

Withheld from the Lord who gave ? 
The seed locked up in the garner, 

The gold that we fain would save ? 
Whatever the treasure hidden, 

By mortals unseen, unknown, 
The " eye of the Lord " is on it, 

He marks it, and claims His own. 



60 SHE PICKED IT UP. 

Sfje Pfcfetti It ®[p. 

As Evelyn walked along the street, her 
quick eye noticed a bit of green upon 
the dusty crossing, and she stooped and 
picked it up. It was a broken branch 
of rose-geranium ; and although the large 
green leaves were drooping, they held 
their fragrance still. 

Evelyn fastened them in her belt with 
a long breath of pleasure — the odor was 
so sweet. Presently she went into the 
Public Library. As the librarian handed 
out the required book, she looked up 
and smiled, — 

" So you have the geranium leaves," 
she said. " I smelled them as soon as 
you came in." 

On the way home, Evelyn stopped to 
see a friend. 

" Where did you get such fragrant 
geranium leaves ? " asked Grace at once. 
" I smelled them the minute I came into 
the room." 



SHE PICKED IT UP. 6 1 

" I picked up this forlorn-looking 
branch on a crossing," was the answer. 
" I couldn't bear to see the leaves lying 
in the dust ; and I do think they are un- 
usually fragrant, perhaps because they 
are so bruised. I believe almost every 
one I have met has noticed the odor." 

" But while they lay in the dust no- 
body knew how sweet they were. You 
picked them up, and afterward other peo- 
ple cried, ' How sweet ! ' Grace was 
given to moralizing. 

Truly it is something even to rescue a 
spray of bruised leaves, and give them 
a place and a chance to breathe out their 
sweetness. It was well worth while for a 
passer-by to stop and to stoop for this. 

It is better worth while to wrest from 
neglected and unsuspected places small, 
sweet, common joys, opportunities to give 
and to receive pleasure, which many are 
too busy, too heedless, or too hurried to 
notice. Others may share these after 
they are picked up. 



62 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 

It is best of all to lift a bruised life, 
fallen upon the highway under the press 
of earth's sorrows and strivings, or suf- 
fered to fall by careless hands that should 
have upheld it. Sometimes look down, 
that you may lift up. 



3Efje Passion for jFinfejjmg. 

Idlers and easy-goers, who dally and 
delay, have sermons preached to them 
in plenty. Culpable time-wasters, whose 
besetting sin is to begin and not finish, 
may betake themselves to those who ad- 
monish them to improve each shining 
hour by using all the odd minutes. This 
little preachment is not for them. They 
would pervert the doctrine and exag- 
gerate the application, in the most het- 
erodox fashion. There are active souls, 
however, who need to be cautioned 
against excess of energy caused by their 
own exacting standards. Many a woman 



THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 63 

is her own severest task-mistress. No 
one else would dare to demand or extort 
what her own merciless will requires. 
" Do thyself no harm " is a suitable 
admonition for such workers, whether 
they will hear, or whether they will for- 
bear. 

These fervent spirits foster the pas- 
sion for finishing until it becomes a 
" choice virtue gone to seed; " and many 
things lovely in the blossom are un- 
sightly in the seed-pod. Sometimes the 
work itself is injured by the doer's anx- 
iety to have done with it. Finish is 
sacrificed to finishing. The house- 
builder does not commend the workmen 
if the hard-wood polishing is too speedily 
accomplished. Perfection is marred by 
slighting haste. But the evils of this 
passion for finishing are usually visited 
upon the worker. The feverish hurry 
and grudging rest, the preoccupied atten- 
tion and determined speed, of one bent 
upon accomplishing plans in a certain 



64 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 

time, are surely familiar. The irritating 
effect of the strain is also in evidence. 
Enormously useful things may be done 
in an incredibly short time, and human- 
ity may seem to be much benefited ; but 
a person who has not the devouring desire 
to " finish up " may be much pleasanter 
to live with. " Easy to live with " is per- 
haps the climax of compliment, and the 
test of perfection. To be able, on occa- 
sion, placidly to "let things go," and 
" take things as they come, 7 ' may give a 
peculiar charm to busy home-life. 

" This part of the house-cleaning must 
be done to-day ; this piece of sewing 
must be finished by nightfall ; this visit- 
ing accomplished before tea-time ; this 
outline filled, these data gathered, this 
writing finished to-day," — thus the in- 
exorable announcements run. The cum- 
bered housewife and the expert nee- 
dle woman, the social visitor and the 
enthusiastic student, may find their self- 
set time-limits and task-limits a great 



THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 6$ 

snare. They make no allowance for 
their tracks crossing other people's com- 
fort and convenience, or the claim of 
their own well-being. " I must " is often 
the cry of one who makes her own 
"must." 

Blessings on the brisk and busy peo- 
ple who may be trusted to complete 
their undertakings, and to rill up the 
measure of purposed or promised work. 
The world would be in a state of dis- 
traction without them, and things would 
go sadly awry. Conscientious workers 
will not fail to be faithful and diligent, 
even unto the end. But when the ur- 
gency of a subtle ambition to " accom- 
plish something," in order to have 
"something to show for the day/' over- 
taxes time and strength, and £oads both 
brain and body to the exhaustion-point, 
it is a delusion to call it a virtue. It is 
rather the spirit of self-pleasing arrayed 
as an angel of light, or an unrecognized 
characteristic miscalled " sense of duty." 



66 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 

" Do it and be done with it " is an ex- 
cellent motto ; but undue haste to finish 
for the sake of finishing is often respon- 
sible for nerves at excessive tension, 
tempers at the snapping-point, and tran- 
quillity wrecked. It is hard to keep a 
quiet mind under stress of breathless 
haste. This " passion" is also account- 
able for dropped opportunities, which 
one may not return to pick up ; while 
unexpected duties, coming perhaps as 
interruptions, only chafe the eager spirit. 
The ability to bear interruptions is one 
of the loftiest virtues. It comes only 
through " the self-renouncing will," and 
a " heart at leisure from itself." 

Plans not pliant enough to swerve, 
purposes not elastic enough to stretch, 
upon occasion, are irksome bounds and 
bonds. Unlooked-for things are sure to 
come ; but it is not so much their coming, 
as the fixed determination to pursue 
one's own way in spite of them, that 
causes the fume and fret. The impera- 



THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 67 

tive duty is to let " all things work to- 
gether for good," and not to fight them. 
Thus broken and disordered plans, un- 
finished tasks and hindered wishes, will 
take their divinely ordered places. The 
stars in their courses will not be hin- 
dered if our plans fail. We overrate what 
we set our hearts upon. " What will it 
matter by and by ? " 

Most people like to do whole things. 
Few are content with odds and ends, 
even in the department of " the great 
commonplace." But the odds and ends 
may be bright bits ; and it is a worthy, 
although modest calling, to fill in, and to 
fill up, and to give symmetry and finer 
finish to what we may not wholly fashion 
or finish ourselves. There is a deal of 
mosaic-work given out to do. In a realm 
higher than the housewife's, and broader 
than that of any labor of hand or brain, 
there is an inborn longing to achieve 
something worth the doing, and to com- 
plete the work of the lifetime. Threads 



68 THE PASSION FOR FINISHING. 

of influence and opportunity are given, 
and we instinctively yearn to finish the 
fabric we have wrought in part. It is 
hard to be thwarted in the honest and 
earnest desire, but sometimes this must 
be. To give thanks for "sweet joys 
missed and pure aims crossed " in life's 
utmost and highest endeavor, is more 
pleasing to Him who asks it, than any 
achievement could be. When, at the 
end, that which we most longed to com- 
pass in fulness and fairness as work 
for Him must be dropped in its incom- 
pleteness, none but our Master can un- 
clasp the hands so gently as to take 
from us the unfinished work so that the 
loosening may not hurt. 

The finishing touch He will give it, 
The touch of His hand will avail 

To bring to completeness and beauty 
The work of our fingers so frail. 



DIRECTED STEPS. 69 

DirccfctJ Steps. 

" A marrs heart deviseth his way : but the Lord 
directeth his steps." — Prov. xvi. 9. 

The little steps, the daily steps, 

The Lord directeth them, 
If we but follow close to Him, 

And touch his garment's hem. 
His noiseless footfalls on the path 

That leadeth on before, 
Their traces leave, which loving eyes 

Discover more and more. 
We hear his word, " This is the way/ 5 

Repeated o'er and o'er. 
The tired steps, the faltering steps, 

The feeble ones, and slow, 
The Lord directeth even these, 

If after Him we go. 
The onward, eager, marching feet, 

These, too, will He command; 
Our way, indeed, we may devise, 

But may not understand 
The strange, divergent paths, by which 

We reach the promised land. 



70 « THE WHOLESOME PINCH. " 

For just one step, and only one, 

His promise we may claim ; 
Until " the way clears for the next/' 

'Tis evermore the same. 
And thus He makes us hold His hand, 

He's but a step away, 
And keeps us looking unto Him 

That so we may not stray. 
Oh ! let us listen as we walk, 

To hear what He may say. 



"8Cfje OTf)0u?S0mc pndj oi tije 3ust 
lEnoiujlj." 

It is a generous soul that coins a 
thought into bright speech and hands it 
over without asking or waiting for the 
change. Others, furnished with the pro- 
ductive capital of a fine suggestion, may 
put it to the exchangers, and get good 
out of it, even beyond the dream of the 
originator ; but at least a percentage of 



" THE WHOLESOME PINCH." 7 I 

the credit belongs to the one who coined 
and put it into circulation. 

A suggestive phrase that makes an 
excellent investment, when one takes it 
to think out or work out, is " The 
wholesome pinch of the just enough." 
It is found in "Blessed Be Drudgery," 
that marvel of fine philosophy and prac- 
tical help, compacted into leaflet form, 
by W. C. Gannett. 

Nobody likes to be pinched, whether 
it is by a sudden nip or a tenacious 
clutch; but there's odds in pinches as in 
other things. This is the healthy sort, 
that is not crippling, but stimulating. 
The just enough, squeezed out from 
what appeared too little, is enjoyed with 
a zest which abundance does not know. 
The fear of failure in the beginning 
quickens thanksgiving in the end. What 
we almost miss, and gain, is valued far 
more than what we easily obtain. 

The rare contrivance that makes a 
becoming gown out of the barest suffi- 



72 « THE WHOLESOME PINCH."" 

ciency of material, that furnishes a room 
which does not show the pinch that was 
felt in doing it, that concocts an appetiz- 
ing meal from left-overs or from inade- 
quate supplies, by means of skill and 
pains and care and brains, gives the right 
to a woman to carry herself like a queen. 
She has conquered circumstances, and 
compelled both ends to meet, when it 
took admirable stretching. She may be 
tired after the effort ; but she knows what 
she can do in emergencies, and how she 
can squeeze through. Not every one is 
so favored. Those who " have all and 
abound " haven't the least idea how it 
feels to succeed in making things " do " 
when resources are scant and difficulties 
pinch. There is something triumphant 
about it that makes a body feel most 
comfortably " set up." It can't be very, 
very wicked. Conscience does not call 
it sinful pride, and common-sense ap- 
plauds the innocent elation, if it does 
not become inflation. 



« THE WHOLESOME PINCH. » 73 

A little more than just enough would 
make many of us too lazy for anything. 
There must be a spur of some kind. 
Without it, few would work as they do, 
nor gain the facility they win. The 
pinch of the just enough keeps people 
from going to sleep ; it rouses, animates, 
and urges, and there is nothing for it 
but to strive for the " more " that seems 
imperative, or to make the just enough 
answer the purpose, which cannot be 
done without contrivance. 

This wholesome but little-desired 
"pinch" is a great safeguard against ex- 
uberance and extravagance. It controls 
and holds back; it schools in managing; 
it furbishes up the mind ; it stimulates 
and strengthens the will and the wits. 
What a world of educating experience, 
of skill that amounts to genius, of exul- 
tant happiness over successes hardly 
won, would be lost to life if all were 
amply able to adjust supplies and de- 
mands, and there were no call to show 



74 " THE WHOLESOME PINCH. " 

force of character, or special ingenuity 
in adapting means to the ends. 

This " pinch " is felt outside of 
what wealth will buy. Circumstances 
over which money has no control con- 
spire to cramp many in intellectual de- 
velopment, in home-making and heart- 
culture, and in general usefulness. Very 
small talents, or very few, may be given, 
scarcely enough, it would seem, to meet 
the inexorable demands of life ; but it is 
worth a deal of striving to learn how to 
make the most of what one has, while 
the conscious lack of anything to spare 
is a strong incentive to strive for more. 
One might be shockingly wasteful of op- 
portunities as well as of money, if the 
means of using them were always abun- 
dant. There is great danger in feeling 
perfectly satisfied that there is a great 
plenty, whether it be of goods or of 
grace. The lightly valued affluence may 
be easily squandered or misused. 

While man may discover the fact and 



" THE WHOLESOME PINCH' 3 75 

the value of this kindly provision which 
forces into activity the energies that 
might lie dormant, only divine Love and 
infinite Wisdom could have so ordered 
it. This nice balance of need and 
supply, that leaves nothing to spare, 
must be for the greatest good of the 
greatest number ; for see how general it 
is. Like the wilderness manna, the por- 
tion of a day is given in its day. There 
is just enough and nothing over, but 
there is the certain need of fresh gath- 
ering to-morrow. It is a wholesome 
pinch, which reminds of the necessity 
and urges the effort. 

But the just enough is not too little. 
It cannot be that for any one who puts 
a child's trust in God, who has promised 
that there shall be no lack of any good 
thing to them that fear him. All is wise 
and well. Let us be ' ; content with such 
things as we have," with things as they 
are; for the ''pinch of the just enough" 
is not cruel, but wholesome and kindly. 



7& SHAVINGS AND KINDLING. 

jifjabings anti 3&hrtrtmg. 

Shavings and kindling are the first 
essentials in building an old-fashioned 
fire. It is wasteful economy to stint 
them in the beginning ; for one burns 
more finally, in coaxing the reluctant 
blaze that had a poor start for want of 
feeders. Abundance of kindling makes 
a good bed for coal. It does not warm 
the room, but it is a means to that end ; 
it has little substance, but much utility ; 
it disappears, but serves a purpose ; it 
gets no credit, but does good. 

As curled ribbons of wood and pine- 
splinters are necessary for a fire, so a 
thousand nameless preparations are req- 
uisite for any work worth doing. Much 
practice goes before perfection, and a 
multitude of experiments before success. 
Many inked and pencilled sheets "whose 
end is to be burned " prepare the way for 
good writing. Repetition gives facility 
in handcraft and brain-work, although 



SHE LEFT HER WATER-POT. 77 

visible results cannot be summed up. 
What matter ? That which is first 
burned supplies the conditions for a 
steady fire. 

Countless little courtesies and kind- 
nesses, self-denials and activities, must 
kindle and consume before the steadfast 
character can blaze and glow with light 
and heat. Numberless incidentals, hav- 
ing small apparent connection with the 
end sought, must precede life's achieve- 
ments. Shavings and kindling come be- 
fore coal. Don't stint the measure and 
spoil the fire. 

^Jjc 3Lcft P?er SUaatcr^ot 

A water-pot was a valuable utensil 
in the East, in olden days as now. The 
woman at Sychar's well must have been 
intensely interested in the One who sat, 
"wearied with his journey," upon the 
curb, when she left her water-pot to go 



7§ SHE LEFT HER WATER-POT. 

into the city with the wonderful invita- 
tion, " Come, see a man, which told me 
all things that ever I did/' 

But this was an extraordinary occa- 
sion, the supreme moment of a lifetime. 
The opportunity to receive living water, 
and to bid others come and drink, justi- 
fied the woman in hastening back to the 
city without her burden for the family 
supply, leaving her water-pot by the well- 
side, unfilled and unregarded. 

The question is often earnestly asked, 
" Shall I leave my home cares to attend 
meetings, and my regular duties for out- 
side work ? " That depends. " Wisdom 
is profitable to direct. " Home duties 
are God-given, and the common round 
divinely ordered. But little things, even 
life's small essentials, must not be held 
so close to the eye as to exclude a 
glimpse of larger claims that occasion- 
ally demand the setting aside of usual 
duties. There may be opportunities 
which justify leaving the water-pot to 



IS JESUS IN THE HOUSE? 79 

"go tell." When these come, and guid- 
ance is clear, be sure to use them ; for — 

The Lord's occasions, lightly passed, 
Return unto Him who gave. 



£s 3tsu& in tfj* pfouse? 

" It was noised that he was in the house, and 
straightway many were gathered together.'' — Mark 
ii. 1, 2. 

Who cared to mark the furnishing 

Of that Capernaum dwelling-place, 
Where once, in days of long ago, 

The Saviour came in lowly grace ? 
What matter if the walls were rough ? 

The inner court both rude and bare ? 
Behold, within, a Guest divine ! 

'Twas noised abroad that Christ was 
there. 

From lip to lip the tidings spread ; 

His presence could not be concealed; 
And lo ! the gathered multitude 

Their need of help and cure revealed. 



8o "MAKING UP THE HEDGE." 

For straightway, all about the door, 
They pressed, in thronging crowds, to 
hear 

The word of life which Jesus preached, 
The tender gospel of good cheer. 

Is Jesus in the house to-day 

In all His sweet, attractive grace ? 
'Twill speedily be noised abroad, 

And burdened souls will fill the place. 
Is Jesus in " His House of Prayer " ? 

Does Jesus in thy house abide ? 
Then " He will draw all men to Him," 

With pleas that will not be denied. 



"JHafemg up tfye P?etir$e, antj Standing 
in tfje <@ap." 

A gap is not a gateway. It is an 
opening which implies a breach, a defect, 
a flaw. ; * Standing in the gap," adds 
our useful Webster, " is exposing one's 
self for the defence of something." 



"MAKING UP THE HEDGE." 8 1 

Stopping a gap is making a weak point 
secure. 

Not every one can do this. Unhap- 
pily it is the willingness, not the ability, 
that is usually lacking. Long ago Eze- 
kiel lodged complaint against Israel's 
prophets because they had not "gone in- 
to the gaps neither made up the hedge ; " 
and later he recounted the search after 
one man who would do this, and added 
that none was found. (Ezek. xxii. 30.) 

But that was a great occasion, a su- 
preme opportunity. There are lesser 
ones nowadays, but they are not unim- 
portant ; and the search still goes on 
for those who can make up the hedge, 
and stop gaps. For some of these, one 
does not even look for a man. It is a 
woman who is needed. Those not called 
upon to defend the nation, except in 
caring for the home detachments, may 
find chances in plenty to stand in a 
breach, in the homa, in society, and in 
the church. Enclosing hedges are often 



82 "MAKING UP THE HEDGE.". 

broken. Blessings on all who are will- 
ing to fill chinks ! It may be very fine 
and gratifying to be called upon in the 
first place to do the setting out and 
enclosing, but to be able to fill in the 
unexpected openings opportunely and 
effectively is a praiseworthy aim and at- 
tainment. To be an emergency woman 
is a laudable ambition. 

Home-life gaps are legion. Usually 
the house-mother fills these, but why 
should she always ? Let her daughters 
emulate her example, as they will have 
brave chance to do. Somebody must 
do the small duties that seem to belong 
to nobody, and use the unexpected op- 
portunities to make others comfortable, 
or prevent their being uncomfortable. 
It is the filling in which makes up the 
hedge of home, and keeps all secure 
within. Some one must be ready to 
stay at home or to hurry back, to run 
to the grocer's or the baker's, in the 
event of unlooked-for guests, who may 



"MAKING UP THE HEDGE." 83 

be ever so welcome, though not pre- 
pared for. The bit of homely work sud- 
denly dropped by an ailing or absent 
housemaid, or the one responsible for 
the doing, must be taken up by some 
one, and all manner of gaping edges 
must be brought smoothly together. 

In a household or a neighborhood 
where many diverse minds and wills 
have constant intercourse, it would be 
amazing if there were not occasional 
differences of opinion, breaches of har- 
mony, leaving family peace defenceless 
at that point. Surely it is a holy call- 
ing to make up the hedge again, and 
keep it from widening into a breach 
hard to mend. 

Look at the social gaps. Think of the 
depressing silences that sometimes fall 
when some guilty hedge-breaker blun- 
ders upon forbidden subjects, or peo- 
ple unacquainted and uncongenial are 
thrown together, and don't know what 
in the world to do or say. Mayhap they 



84 "MAKING UP THE HEDGE." 

are only shy ; but, dear heart ! that is bad 
enough. The most observant hostess 
cannot be ubiquitous, and through some 
yawning gap discomfort or discord may 
come hurrying in if no one stand there 
to prevent. Those who can and do fill 
up the chinks, with pleasant greetings, 
kindly courtesies, adroit and tactful in- 
troductions, and other good offices, are 
blessings indeed, whether they are bril- 
liant or not. 

Church-life offers a thousand opportu- 
nities to make up the hedge. Some- 
body is always falling out, leaving a 
chasm to be filled in. First-best singers 
and players upon instruments fail, per- 
haps for excellent reasons ; first choices 
for special efforts and occasions may 
prove unavailable, and somebody must 
play second-best or there will be a dis- 
astrous gap. Why should any one be 
sensitive about being second choice or 
second-best ? It is rather a comfortable 
thing to be even the last resort ; for the 



"MAKING UP THE HEDGE.- 8 5 

conviction that at least there is no one 
to do the work better, and that all are 
glad to have this service rather than 
none, is vastly reassuring. Hedge-ma- 
kers and gap-fillers should not be criti- 
cised, if they do their best. 

After all," it is a high compliment to 
be considered equal to an emergency 
upon short notice. The confidence that 
appeals for help' at the last moment 
ought to be mightily uplifting. Presi- 
dents of missionary societies and lead- 
ers of meetings have a warm feeling; 
toward those whom they can trust to act 
as substitutes when asked, in extremity, 
to make up deficiencies, to fill in and 
fill out the enclosure of the allotted 
hour, and who may be counted on to 
do it pleasantly, unaffectedly, and with- 
out looking abused or annoyed, when 
called upon without due notice, under 
stress of circumstances. 

" I cannot do it well enough " has a 
sound of humility, but in substance it 



86 « THEY HEARD NOT THE VOICE." 

may be anything but that. True humil- 
ity makes up the hedge because the work 
must be done, not in order to make a 
creditable showing of the worker's way. 
Generally those nearest the breach, 
whatever it is, should make haste to 
stand in the gap. In the highest and 
most sacred work, nothing is trifling nor 
valueless. The blessed little things be- 
long to the great whole, and are digni- 
fied by the relation. Let us cultivate 
the happy faculty of filling chinks, of 
making up the hedge and standing in 
gaps, even the minor ones, — 

" Content to fill a little space, 
If God be glorified!" 



" &i)erj ^carti not tlje Uotce of flftm 
" 5Tf}at £pafte to JHe." 

(Acts xxii. 9.) 

The flash of the light from heaven, 
That shone on the broad highway 



" THEY HEARD NOT THE VOICE:' 8 7 

As the pilgrims neared Damascus, 

Was seen by them all, that day ; 
But none except Saul of Tarsus, 

Whose eyes in the glare grew dim, 
Could hear, through the blinding glory, 

The Voice that arrested him. 
The message from heaven spoken 

Was meant for his ear alone ; 
For him was the silence broken, 

The will of the Lord made known. 

And so, in this latter noontide. 

The Voice of the Lord is heard ; 
But none may hear for another, 

Nor interpret the spoken word. 
Each heart that is called to carry 

A message of love and cheer, 
And summoned to serve or suffer, 

Alone the command must hear. 
I may not judge for my neighbor 

What errand for him may be, 
For I know that he cannot hearken 

To the Voice that speaks to me. 



SS MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN." 

" jjffimt anli $Lm'se anfc tomtn — Wfyzzz 
©ugfjt fge to Pfafce ©one." 

Satisfaction depends much upon sea- 
soning. Tasteless food may nourish, but 
flavor gives it relish. No one wishes 
to sit down to a dish of salt or of sage, 
and eat it by the spoonful ; but " Can 
that which is unsavory be eaten with- 
out salt ? " And what would become of 
the art culinary, in its substantial and 
seductive achievements, were there no 
summer-savory, sage, sweet marjoram, 
or mint ? " Add a bay-leaf " directs the 
priestess of cookery sometimes ; and, 
although the quantity is small, the com- 
mand is imperative, and the result gratify- 
ing. The triumphs of our grandmothers 
in savory dishes are suggested by the 
very mention of " sweet herbs," which 
rioted in summer gardens, and afterward 
proclaimed their virtues in Thanksgiv- 
ing viands by appetizing odors. But the 
stores of garden and garret were used 



"MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN" 89 

sparingly. A tithe of a small portion 
sufficed to, " half-suspected, animate the 
whole." The seasoning is not the dish, 
but it must not be left out. 

People nowadays are perhaps wont to 
bring against the scribes and pharisees 
a railing accusation not warranted by 
our Lord's words. It was not the tith- 
ing of mint and anise and cummin which 
he disapproved, but the omission of the 
weightier matters of the law, in glar- 
ing contrast with minute observances. 
"These ought ye to have done," he 
says distinctly, while reproving them for 
leaving the others undone. 

The weightier matters, of supreme 
importance, are set before us abun- 
dantly, and cannot have too much at- 
tention ; but now and then the tithes of 
mint and anise and cummin are forgotten 
altogether. This leaves many an offer- 
ing, in itself wholesome and sustaining, 
savorless, and even unacceptable, be- 
cause the seasoning of delicate tact and 



90 "MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN" 

good-will is lacking. Blundering gene- 
rosity may give lavishly, but may spoil 
the gift in the giving, as food is spoiled 
by what is left out, as well as by what 
may be added. Receivers are often un- 
reasonable, perhaps ; but are they to 
blame if they miss what they want 
most, — even the subtle element that 
makes it sweet " to take, for love's dear 
sake"? The most learned discourse 
upon the qualities of albumen will not 
make the Scripture question less perti- 
nent, " Is there any taste in the white 
of an egg ? " Everybody knows there 
isn't, and a request for salt and pep- 
per is not immoderate. They cost little, 
but they make all the difference between 
palatable and unpalatable food. 

By a deft and discriminating process 
of seasoning, the accomplished cook 
makes tasteless things attractive. This 
is what tact and loving-kindness in man- 
ner will do for good deeds that might 
otherwise be scorned. But let us, for 



"MINT AND AXISE AXD CUMMIN" 9 1 

compassion's sake, avoid excess of 
" manner" as we would extravagance in 
seasoning. The sweet herbs in a dish 
should not be the most aggressive and 
conspicuous element in it. 

Small concessions in unimportant mat- 
ters, little sacrifices of taste, opinion, and 
preference, a considerate remembrance 
of others' whims, aversions, and choices, 
the sweet temper that avoids irritating 
subjects, contradiction, and friction, and 
soothes disquietude and small exaspera- 
tions. — these, and kindred kindnesses, 
are the sweet herbs that give exquisite 
savor to commonest life. Some people 
are capable of stupendous sacrifices for 
another's welfare who would never think 
of closing a door softly to avoid the 
shock to quivering nerves ; and others 
are willing to give away fabulous sums 
of money, who perhaps grudge a few 
minutes daily to make a child happy, or 
to write a letter giving such gladness as 
money could not buy. These tithes of 



92 "MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN" 

time, convenience, and courtesy are not 
supreme, nor are they the whole of life, 
but — " Mint and anise and cummin — 
these ought ye to have done," together 
with the " weightier matters." 

Attention to small details is another 
flavoring of good deeds which enhances 
their value, as the carawny and dill were 
mingled w r ith other things in our great- 
grandmothers' capacious pockets, and 
seasoned with their slight diversion the 
sermons of long ago. A letter that 
brings the very essence of home-life to 
the absent is not of the generalizing 
sort, with sweeping statements as to 
family matters and the affairs of neigh- 
borhood or state, leaving out all homely 
incidents, intimate glimpses of love and 
longing, and the small happenings of 
every day. The satisfying letter goes 
into details, answers questions, acknowl- 
edges little love-thoughts, and accepts 
small commissions. What a delicious 
flavor of every day does Paul's refer- 



-MINT AND ANISE AND CUMMIN." 93 

ence to his cloak left at Troas give to 
the great apostle's letter ; and while it 
contained many weightier matters, it is 
to be hoped that Timothy remembered, 
among other things, to go to Carpus for 
that cloak, and brought also " the books, 
especially the parchments,' 7 desired. 

In this age of organization, when it 
seems as if every other woman, at least, 
were secretary, treasurer, or chairman of 
some society or committee, the minute 
attention to details, and exact compli- 
ance with directions, are unspeakably 
comforting to those who must collect 
statistics and combine reports. Prodi- 
gious things may be done for the benefit 
of a society, and vast sums of money se- 
cured by enthusiastic effort ; but if accu- 
rate records are not kept, and remittances 
come tardily, somebody at headquarters 
may be kept in such a tumult, and find 
the straightening out such a strain, as 
largely to overbalance the pleasure in 
the work done. These things are the 



94 THE DAILY CHART. 

omitted tithes of " mint and anise and 
cummin — these ought ye to have done." 
Life is exceedingly complex ; it has 
many ingredients. Sweet herbs, aro- 
matic herbs, soothing herbs, must be 
tithed for the mixing. Let us aim to 
make people not only wise and good, 
but comfortable, and give them what 
is not only wholesome, but relishing. 
Let us guard against the " omission 
or careless performance " of the little 
ministries, while we observe faithfully 
the weightier matters, lest the untithed 
mint and anise and cummin draw forth 
the reproving word, "These ought ye to 
have done.'' 

8R)e Bat'Ig Cfjart 

Out upon the sea a great steamer cut 
its way. The passengers were deeply 
interested in a safe and speedy voyage ; 
but not one knew how to guide the ves- 



THE DAILY CHART. 95 

sel's course, nor mark its progress. 
Every day, however, there was placed 
in plain sight a chart of the ship's 
course, while tiny flags indicated its po- 
sition on each date. Some one knew 
where the floating palace took its way, 
how far it swept, what points it reached 
and left behind. It was the daily pleas- 
ure of the passengers to consult this 
significant chart. 

Suppose that for a day it had been 
withheld, would dismay have followed 
disappointment, and fear beset them all 
for lack of the usual signals ? Would 
any have said, " We are surely going 
wrong" or, "We are making no head- 
way," because the way could not be 
traced ? Surely not. Pilot, engineer, 
and captain would be as wise and 
worthy of trust as before, and the ship 
would pursue her way as safely and 
surely. The simple matter of seeing the 
record would make no difference in any 
case with the facts themselves. 



96 THE DOORS BEING SHUT. 

So it is upon life's tossing sea. It 
may be wondrous pleasant to see how 
the vessel speeds, but it is not neces- 
sary to its safe-conduct that passengers 
should see the chart. All is secure with 
Him who " knows the way He taketh," 
though His path be in the sea. 

That daily chart with tiny flags might 
be wrong, after all. A mistake in cal- 
culation, or an unsuspected divergence 
of the needle, might make it a false 
record. But nothing can deflect God's 
purpose, nor turn his course, who 
guides his chosen safely home. 

What matter if we cannot see? 
Enough for us His word shall be: 
" Fear not, for I will pilot thee." 



E\)t Soots Being Sfjut. 

John xx. 19, 26. 

The doors were shut; without were foes, 
The unbelieving, clamorous host ; 



THE DOORS BEIXG SHUT. 97 

Within, the sad disciples met 

To talk of what concerned them most. 
The recent grief, the he aw loss. 

The heartache, and the painful doubt, 
Were shut within the bolted doors 

That barred the curious gazers out. 

In this seclusion, love had leave 

To give its pain and longing speech; 
For all the mocking multitude 

Were out of sight, and out of reach. 
And lo ! the Master in the midst, 

His entrance all unseen, unknown. 
Proclaimed his presence and his peace, 

A message meant for these alone. 

Oh ! close the doors, disciples true, 

Who crave to-day the word of peace ; 
For enemies are fierce without, 

And earthly clamors never cease. 
Haste, bar them out ! Let silence fall ; 

But let the heart its longing speak, 
And wait his noiseless coming: in. 

The risen Saviour, whom ye seek. 



9 8 UNOWNED FIELDS. 

GKno&mrti jFultig. 

It is a blessed thing that one is not 
shut out from enjoyment because he may 
not hope for possession. 

"From the green fields we do not own, 
We yet may watch the wild birds fly." 

The fields are not walled, and our eyes 
need not be closed as we pass. The 
owners themselves have no more senses 
to gratify than we ; and sights and songs 
and perfumes, the atmosphere and influ- 
ence all abroad, where birds fly, orchards 
bud, and crops ripen, belong as much to 
the passer-by as to the property-holders. 

Moreover, there are exemptions and 
compensations for the non-owners. They 
are not responsible for the cultivation of 
the fields, or for the payment of taxes. It 
might even be a burden to hold the title- 
deed. Often one forgets this, and only 
covets the beautiful field for one's own. 

There are fields of opportunity, influ- 



"IN WHITE." 99 

ence, wealth, science, art, and of marvel- 
lous gifts and attainments. Others own 
them, and we can but eye them. But if 
we cannot rejoice in the ownership, we 
can rejoice with the owners. 

Verily, there are other ways of enjoy- 
ing things besides owning them. Look 
up, and "watch the wild birds fly," and 
do not fret over unowned fields. 



"En HHijite." 

Here is a good word dropped by some 
one, that ought to be passed on : " Serve 
God, and be cheerful. Religion looks all 
the more lovely in white." 

Think of it ! Religion in white ! Fair 
draperies may not be essential, but they 
are certainly influential. The first im- 
pression may be made by them before 
the absolute essentials are sought. 

Those who are not Christians will 
readily discern the difference between 



IOO "ALL THE DAYS." 

the garments of gloom and the garments 
of praise. There is good cheer some- 
where. If it is a hid treasure, seek for 
it, and then make religion lovely " in 
white.' ' 

«ail % JBags." 

This ray of promise falls on darkened 

ways, 
"Lo, I am with you alway — all the 

days." 
The bright, untroubled, gladsome days 

of life, 
The days of bitterness and care and 

strife ; 
The days when peace doth like a river 

flow, 
The days of grief with weary hours and 

slow. 
He goes not on far journeys, Christ is 

near, 
He leaves no day without its help and 

cheer. 



BITTER HERBS. 101 

As once of old " He knew what He would 

do," 
When servants were dismayed and 

troubled too, 
So now, with infinite supplies at hand, 
He walks with us, though in a barren 

land. 
Some sweet surprise He doubtless has 

in store, 
Some secret that He never told before. 
For this, perhaps, He leads through 

shaded ways, 
And you will understand ere many days. 



Sitter p?eris. 

" Poison not thy wine with bitter herbs 
when God hath made it sweet." 

Here is a fine corrective for the mis- 
ery-making propensity of morbid natures 
and sensitive spirits. 

Many a time the Lord himself mingles 
myrrh with the wine of life ; and then 



102 BITTER HERBS. 

the sainted Judson's words are timely : 
"Take the cup in both hands, and sit 
down to the repast. You will find sweet- 
ness at the bottom." But when the 
Lord has made it sweet, why not take 
the cup of thanksgiving ? why not drink 
the wine of gladness with its fragrance 
and flavor unspoiled ? Why float upon 
its brim one leaf of the bitter herb of 
our own gathering, " I am afraid it is too 
good to be real, too sweet to last " ? 

Happy natures, in the home and out 
of it, that take joy unreservedly, as a 
child from a father who loves to give 
it, are blessed themselves, and a bless- 
ing to others. What good times there 
are for those ready to see and seize 
them, especially for all who are content 
with draughts that are simple, though 
sweet, and are satisfied with small cup- 
fuls ! There are some who will have 
nothing if it is not to be had in large- 
ness and lavishness. Oh, the folly of it ! 
Take sweet sips, and take them often, 



BITTER HERBS. 103 

and life's long day will have ample re- 
freshment. 

Our Father who " knows how " to give 
good gifts, surely loves to see his chil- 
dren enjoy to the full the bounty and 
blessing which his intimate knowledge 
and love confer. Imagine the feelings 
of an earthly father, whose child, sitting 
down to the wholesome fare of the fam- 
ily table, should persist in bringing from 
some fence-corner, sprigs of boneset or 
leaves of rue, to sprinkle upon each dish 
and flavor every cup ! Yet there are 
people, let us believe they are few, who 
will even "gather wild gourds, a lapful," 
and "shred" them into the day's portion 
provided by wiser hands than theirs. 

Fear of the future is a bitter herb. 
Vague forebodings of evil too often 
poison the sweet cup of the present. 
Such herbs are of our own gathering. 
They grow outside of the Lord's garden ; 
and we break over the fence of trust 
that should be built about each dav, in 



lO~4 BITTER HERBS. 

the unseemly and hurtful scramble after 
the wild stalks and bitter roots. The joy 
of meeting is marred by the fore-dated 
pain of parting, and dread of separation 
mingles with the sweetness of daily in- 
tercourse with hearts held dearest. Why 
poison the wine ? It is not the trustful, 
thankful way. 

Morbid fear of being glad, lest the joy 
invite sorrow, and precipitate disaster, 
is a bitter herb that a few souls go 
far to gather. What wasted journeying ! 
Would an earthly father inflict pain at the 
most jubilant moment of a child's life 
simply because of the gladness ? If pain 
or disappointment come at such an hour, 
they are but forerunners of good, not 
the consequences of trustful joy. Why 
accuse the infinite Father, who pitieth 
His children, of such an abhorrent exer- 
cise of power? It is His "good pleas- 
ure " to give the kingdom to his "little 
flock ; " He wants to do it. Surely He 
would never give a little cup of hap- 



BITTER HERBS. 1 05 

piness beforehand for sake of making 
pain more swift or bitter. The thought 
is profane. It is poison. " The Angel 
of the Afterthought " is fertile in tor- 
menting suggestions. —"If I had only 
known " embitters many a present cup 
with the thought of something missed or 
marred in the past. " Beware of " Had 
I wis,' '" says the old proverb. If the 
lack of knowledge is blameworthy, there 
is great cause for repentance ; but let it 
be after a godly sort. Many a time, 
when there was no chance to know and 
no responsibility for not knowing, in the 
past, the soul distils the poison of the 
bitter herb into the present joy, spoiling 
what God has made sweet. Is it grate- 
ful ? Is it wise and well? 

Some conscientious and careful souls 
feel smitten and remorseful over the tak- 
ing of some sweet cup which cannot be 
shared with all. They may thus miss the 
full benefit of the health-giving draught. 
Even unselfishness, gone to seed, has 



lo6 BITTER HERBS. 

a bitter flavor in the pod. The de- 
voted house-mother or the general care- 
takers, not wonted to take thought for 
themselves, may mourn so deeply the pri- 
vation of those who cannot enjoy unex- 
pected good times with them, as to spoil 
the effect of the rest and refreshment 
meted out now and then. Blessings on 
the sweet spirits who find it hard to re- 
sign themselves to absolute rest and 
enjoyment because others are denied it ! 
But when the pleasure comes, unsought 
perhaps, without defrauding another, and 
vain regret but spoils the cup the Lord 
made sweet, without giving others so 
much as a taste, why poison it with bit- 
ter herbs. 

The thought of one's own ill-desert is 
another herb that is often bitter. It is 
not deadly, but it is distressing. Sweet 
surprises, dear praises from loving lips, 
ready appreciation, unexpected commen- 
dation, unsought privilege, undeserved 
consideration, humble the heart that 



BITTER HERBS. 1 07 

knows its weakness ; and sometimes an 
excess of feeling presses a bitter drop 
into the cup of rejoicing. But every 
good gift from above cometh down from 
"the Father of lights,'"' because He is 
good, not because we are worthy or ever 
can be. Humility is not a bitter herb, 
but humiliation is. It grows in dark 
places, fed by mortified feeling, tended 
by wounded pride. True humility is 
well defined as "not thinking ill of our- 
selves, but not thinking of ourselves at 
all." This is a heaven-sown plant, and 
should grow in sunshine as well as in 
shadow. It need not embitter the cup 
of joy. 

Beware, then, of the bitter herbs of 
many names and natures, and of the 
nameless ones, too, of unaccountable, 
groundless fears and feelings. Xot the 
sweetness of stolen waters, not the nec- 
tar of forbidden sweets, but the wine 
that God makes sweet, may be counted 
wholesome and good. Do not mingle 



108 "THERE'S ALL ETERNITY." 

with poison his kindly offered cup 
"Thou shalt rejoice in every good thing 
which the Lord thy God hath given 
thee." Israel was warned of old that if 
they did not serve the Lord with joy- 
fulness and gladness of heart because 
of the abundance of all things, they 
should serve the enemy in hunger and 
thirst, and in want of all things. 

" Go thy way, eat thy bread, and drink 
thy wine with a merry heart ; for God 
now accepteth thy works," is his message 
tc the honestly earnest and faithful. 

"Joy is the grace we say to God." 



"Ojere'g ail lEtermtg Betax" 

Suggested by his Words, and Inscribed to 
Bishop C. C. McCabe. 

Time's fair and fleeting yesterdays 
Are heaping high the storied past ; 

With gleaming hours, all jewel-set, 
The treasure-house is filling fast. 



"THERE'S ALL ETERNITY:' 1 09 

But why regret the vanished gold 
Of Time's most dear and hallowed 
store ? 

Why mourn the unreturning days ? 
"There's all Eternity before \ " 

The ship that spreads her canvas white 

To meet the free and favoring breeze, 
Goes speeding toward the wished-for 
port 

That beckons o'er the wind-tossed seas. 
Time's mariner is outward bound, 

Nor marks the dim, receding shore ; 
The land-locked harbor may be fair — 

" There's all Eternity before ! " 

The baffled hopes, the hindered toil, 

The bonds which eager spirits wear, 
Shall find a recompense at last. 

When dawns the nightless morning 
fair. 
Life's fret and fever then shall cease, 

The scourging haste will all be o'er, 
The long, long leisure comes apace — 

" There's all Eternitv before ! " 



HO "MULTIPLYING HORSES:' 

O solemn warning ! Comfort sweet ! 

These days and deeds are not the 
whole ; 
This broken life shall be complete 

When Jesus calls the trusting soul. 
Ring, tuneful bells of passing Time, 

Till Time itself shall be no more ; 
While Faith repeats the chant sublime, 

" There's all Eternity before ! " 



"fHuIttpIofng Worses." 

"He shall not multiply horses unto himself." — 
Deut. xvii. 16. 

A strange command, surely, to be 
set among those forever binding upon 
Israel's kings ! What harm in horses ? 

Ah, they had to be brought from 
Egypt ; and should the people return to 
Egypt, to the end that " the king should 
multiply horses," the Lord's command 
would be broken, " Forasmuch as God 
had said, ye shall henceforth return no 
more that way." 



"MULTIPLYING HORSES" HI 

King Solomon afterward had horses 
brought from Egypt, and doubtless 
prided himself upon his forty thousand 
stalls for them ■ but if he had held no 
communication with that land of bon- 
dage, would Pharaoh's daughter have 
" turned away his heart/' and " come up 
to the house which he built for her " ? 

It was not safe traffic, for all its fasci- 
nation. 

It is not safe now for God's children to 
multiply unto themselves anything that 
will certainly bring about intercourse with 
the land of bondage whence they have 
come out. The pleasures and pursuits 
that belong distinctively to k * Egypt " 
must be foregone. By reason of their 
connections they are dangerous ; their 
tendencies are toward the place of which 
God has said, " Ye shall return no more 
that way.*' 

Long after the command was written, 
Ezekiel records the rebellion of the king 
who " sent his ambassadors to Egypt 



112 "DRINK WATERS OUT OF 

that they might give him horses," as if 
relief and defence might come from 
there ; and the solemn questions flame 
upon the page, "Shall he prosper? Shall 
he escape that doeth such things, or 
shall he break the covenant and be de- 
livered ? " 

"Urink TOattrs ©ui of Qfyim ©tax 
Cistern," 

So says the wise man. 

It is a pitiful sign of destitution and 
improvidence when one willingly depends 
upon others for common necessaries, and 
when life has nothing but what is brought 
to it, being without resources within. 
There should be a reserve for time of 
need, when neighborly offices fail. 

Cisterns are filled from above, if con- 
ductors are furnished for the rain from 
heaven. So every one may have sources 
of refreshment, and supplies that shall 



THINE OWN CISTERN." H3 

defend him against loneliness and de- 
spondency, when outside helps are cut off. 
There are countless neighborly inter- 
changes that cheer the way, and cups of 
cold water are given by friendly hands, 
but not all daily needs can be ministered 
unto by others, nor can that which gives 
refreshment to one be at the disposal of 
another. Don't depend upon neighbors 
for everything. " Drink waters out of 
thine own cistern." 

5Trjc JftocrtcncTj Utttcr. 

Heed well this lesson : Life's alloy, 
The sweetened bitter, bringeth joy. 
The healing leaves give Marah's flow 
A taste no other waters know. 

ILatge Enbcstmmts. 

This is a day of large enterprises and 
extensive investments. The fascination 



114 LARGE INVESTMENTS. 

about bold undertakings and great ven- 
tures almost amounts to infatuation. A 
Western farmer, gazing over his prairie 
acres, might have much ado to conceal 
his contempt for the farms of early New 
Englanders, if they were mentioned in 
comparison ; and at best he would have 
but a condescending pity for those obliged 
to engage in such small business as cul- 
tivating such bits of stony land. 

It would be a great advantage to the 
world if this spirit could be turned to 
account in the more important business 
of life as well as in secular traffic, and if 
all who despise little things would also 
despise littleness. 

A noble, devout, disinterested man, 
who gave his whole life to the service of 
others with singular zest, once said, on 
being drawn out: " I am sure I am not 
more benevolent than others ; but when I 
was only a boy, it seemed to me that 
living exclusively for one's self was too 
small a business." 



A BROKEN BRANCH. 1 15 

Isn't this vitally true ? One person is 
but an atom in the magnificent universe, 
an infinitesimal unit in the world's mil- 
lions. Think of concentrating a lifetime, 
and the energies of an immortal soul, 
upon that atom ! Isn't it revolting, es- 
pecially when one comes in contact with 
so many other atoms in need of help ? 
One who exists for himself lives in a 
house without windows. He can't look 
out, and doesn't deserve to have any 
one look in. 

This small business grows smaller and 
smaller ; there are no dividends. There 
is no excuse in engaging in it either ; for 
opportunities to help others are on every 
side, and invite large investments, sure 
to bring permanent returns. 

21 Broken Brand). 

A symmetrical tree is a thing of 
beauty, but an orchard of beautiful yet 



Il6 A BROKEN BRANCH. 

barren trees would not be satisfactory 
to the owner. A fruit-bearing branch 
is valuable, whether it be shapely and 
fair, or gnarled and broken. 

Once upon a time a very huge and an- 
cient apple-tree in an orchard, set forth 
a suggestive parable in the face of pass- 
ers-by, if those who ran but chose to read. 

An immense branch, broken from the 
trunk, but not severed from the root, was 
cast upon trie ground by the high wind. 
There it lay along, the size of a tree 
itself, like a defeated giant, but not de- 
feated after all. Its object was to bear 
fruit, and bear fruit it did. The tiny 
apples with which it was covered when 
it fell, grew apace and ripened, in spite 
of the fell disaster that had visited the 
branch. It still had vital connection 
with the root, though torn from the 
trunk. The tree was marred, the branch 
broken ; but, in spite of all, it fulfilled its 
mission. Beauty, symmetry, a conspicu- 
ous place high in air among the other 



HE IS RISEN. 117 

branches, were not essential, although 
desirable. The vital thing — connec- 
tion with the root — insured the life and 
fruitage. 

So a maimed life, cast from its high 
place, injured by some sharp stroke, but 
not destroyed, may still be fruitful and 
also fair, may live in the sunlight, glad- 
den the eyes, and enrich the lives of 
others, if, at the root, there is still vital 
connection with the Infinite Source of 
life and love. 

f£?e Es ftiscn. 

Ring, chiming bells of Easter, 
Repeat your message glad ! 

The gray old world is waiting, 
In sombre raiment clad. 

Break forth, break forth in music, 
Uplifting, sweet, and true ; 

Ring out — " The Lord is risen, 
The Lord is risen for you /" 



II 8 HE IS RISEN. 

For you, who find life's burden 
So irksome and so great ; 

For you, O troubled spirits ! 
For whom Care lies in wait, — 

The Lord for you is risen, 
" If ye be risen with him." 

Your souls shall break their prison, 
And leave these shadows grim. 

Sweet bells, prolong your echoes, 
And sound'through all the year; 

Proclaim, " The Lord is risen, 
And ye have naught to fear." 



May Easter blessedness come to you, 
And the Lord Jehovah make all things 

new ! 
New glories shine through the common 

days, 
New blossoms brighten the trodden ways, 
And your week-day dress be the Robe of 

Praise. 



AS YOU PASS. 



IIQ 



&s g0u pass. 

Sylvia went out by herself, to have a 
little confidential time with Mother Na- 
ture, to hear what she might tell her, and 
to receive what might be given by this 
good mother who lives out-of-doors. 

As she passed beyond the edge of the 
woodland, on her way into its depths, 
where she expected to find the choicest 
treasures and to hear the sweetest secrets 
in the stillness, Sylvia noticed a fine spray 
of goldenrod, the first of the season. 

" How beautiful that is ! " she ex- 
claimed. " When I come back I will 
gather it and take it home." 

But the wood-pilgrim wandered about, 
and in and out, following beguiling little 
paths that seemed to go everywhere and 
led nowhere after all ; and when she 
turned her face homeward, she came out 
of the wood a long distance from where 
she had entered it. The place was not 
very familiar ; and Sylvia, while thinking 



120 



AS YOU PASS. 



that she knew where she was, searched 
everywhere about for the goldenrod 
left. She could not find it, nor any like 
it, and went home without the coveted 
bloom. 

" The next time I'll take it as I pass, 
and not wait till I come back," she re- 
solved, with wisdom born of disappoint- 
ment. " The safe way is to take such 
things when you see them first, other- 
wise you may miss them altogether.' ' 

There is a little sermon wrapped up 
in this reflection about the goldenrod. 
Expand it, and it may prove practical. 
Learn to take the little sweetnesses and 
pleasant things of life as you go, and do 
not be in haste to go farther, promising 
to enjoy the first things upon the edge 
as you return. It may be impossible to 
find them again. And when a bright 
little opportunity blossoms as you pass, 
stop to pluck and use it. You may not 
pass that way again. 



WOUNDED FEELINGS. 



KJEountieti jfaltngg. 

An accidental knife-thrust will draw 
blood as quickly as an intentional stab. 
The act may be deeply deplored ; but if 
there is life at all in the body, nothing 
can keep the red current from leaping 
out when the keen blade cuts through 
the skin. 

What then? Shall the blood be left 
to flow, and the wound to gap ? Surely 
not. When enough vital fluid has poured 
out to insure no poison being left, stanch 
the flow, bind up the hurt, and leave it 
to heal by the first intention, not tearing 
it open now and then to inspect or to 
show it. No amount of pity can make 
a wound lovely to look at. 

To the hurts which the spirit must bear, 
apply the same treatment. Sensitive feel- 
ings cannot ignore a sharp thrust, even 
if unintentional. With no outward sign, 
there may still be the instant, inward 



122 MULTIPLIED SEED. 

pain. Unkindness, ill-humor, and, above 
all, injustice, make deep cuts. 

What then ? Let the poison run out 
with the first natural flow, and then bind 
up the wound. Let charity cover it from 
sight. Forget it, forbear to show it, and 
it will speedily heal, without a scar. 



fHitlttrjltetJ Sertu 

" He that ministereth seed to the sower . . . mul- 
tiply your seed sown." — 2 Cor. ix. 10. 

He gives it first, the Lord of all ; 
In His dear name we let it fall. 
What though the garden-space be small ? 
In one small acre seed is grown 
Which faith and hope may scatter far ; 
The harvest-time shall make it known, 
How many precious sheaves there are, 
And what the fair and bounteous yield 
On some far-distant, larger field. 
'Twere joy enough the seed to sow, 
If never sheaf were seen below; 



A PASSING SALUTE. 1 23 

But ah, the Master is so kind, 
Some golden grain He lets us bind, 
Before the final reaping-day, 
That we with joy may go our way. 



& Passing jialutc. 

It was at the time of the World's 
Fair. The Japanese Tea-house looked 
very inviting to a party of visitors, and 
they went in to refresh themselves. An 
attractive Japanese woman waited upon 
them in a deft and gracious way. Fast- 
ened upon her curious robe might be 
seen a little silver cross. A lady in the 
party wore one like it ; and presently the 
native of the far-off islands pointed sig- 
nificantly to her own cross, and then to 
the counterpart worn by the visitor. The 
two King's Daughters recognized each 
other, smiled, and clasped hands. 

It was the silent salute of two passing 
travellers who knew that they would 



124 UP THE HILL, INTO THE LIGHT. 

meet again. Neither understood the 
other's tongue ; but the silver speech of 
the shining symbol was intelligible to 
both, and each claimed kinship with the 
King, and fellowship with each other. 

The communion of saints is not lim- 
ited to speech, nor to any land or tongue. 



tt}t fijitt £s Ento tjje ILt'flfjt. 



" How hard the way is ! " cried one, 
toiling along the up-hill path in deep 
shadow. " Isn't there a pleasanter way 
round ? Must we go straight up ? " 

" Yes ; we must go straight up,'' was 
the answer of the elder companion. 
" There is no easier way. Up the hill 
is into the light." 

Many a time pleasure-seekers and 
treasure-seekers find themselves toiling 
along in the dusky shadows up a steep 
path. They are thwarted, hindered, 



THE THOUGHTS OF GOD. 1 25 

hampered, in the press of life ; but up 
the hill is into the light. 

At the end of life's long ascent " the 
city lieth four-square : " in " the mount 
of the Lord it shall be seen/' and " the 
sun shall no more go down." 



2Tfje CI}ougf)ts of ©0I1, 

O precious thoughts of God, 
What wealth can dearer be ! 

Though I am poor and weak, 
He thinketh upon me. 

How wonderful His thoughts 
How oft misunderstood ! 

He knows my thoughts afar, 
He thinks on me for good. 

He knows the thoughts He thinks, 
Most gracious thoughts of peace, 

To give expected ends, 
The captive to release. 



126 BEADS UPON A STRING. 

His thoughts are not as ours, 
They cannot come to naught ; 

Nor can we ever stray 

Beyond His loving thought. 



God send us happy thoughts of Him 
Which neither doubt nor care shall dim. 



Beats 5Spon a String, 

Scattered beads are unavailable dec- 
orations. They roll into unnoticed cracks 
and corners ; and one or two, picked up, 
will not make a necklace ; they must all 
be strung. 

Beads that are worth stringing may 
be threaded again and again. When the 
string breaks they disappear into cran- 
nies, none know where, and perhaps 
none care; but by and by somebody 
finds and strings them, the same beads, 
but connected and usable once more. 



BEADS UPON A STRING. 1 27 

So thoughts and truths are threaded 
upon words, and re-strung over and over. 
It is easier to string them than to make 
them; but like gold and coral and amber 
beads, they are worth re-stringing; they 
do not perish with the breaking cord. 
They hide for a while ; and somebody, 
rejoicing as over a new discovery, finds 
them, by their shine, in a chink. It is 
only a re-discovery and a re-stringing af- 
ter all. What of it? There are not new 
thoughts enough to allow each of us to 
make a necklace ; but neither are there 
enough to waste, through the breaking 
string, the outworn or forgotten form of 
words. Who thinks of the string? Yet 
i: holds the beads. 

Let us, then, who cannot originate 
much, take heart of grace. It is worth 
while to find what is already made, and 
to bring it within reach. Be alert to see 
and to seize the first u 11 worded sugges- 
tions, the bits of existing truth, that may, 
with care, be strung upon words to help 



128 BEADS UPON A STRING. 

somebody. Let us find the simple and 
strong words, for thoughts of love and 
sympathy which the world still needs, 
though they have been strung again and 
again. There may be some who have 
not seen them; for these, the old com 
forts may be set in order new, although 
"at random strung, like beads upon a 
string." 



This should be the guiding and the 
guardian angel of the home. What a 
gentle, unobtrusive angel it is; how sweet 
and silent, dear and helpful. It is not 
in great emergencies, demanding unlim- 
ited surrender, that this genius presides. 
It is in the daily living that the ministry 
is needed, in the thousand frictions, the 
small exactions, nameless adjustments, 
and countless opportunities that befall. 
It is the angel of little sacrifices that 
hovers near when little self-indulgences 



BEADS UPON A STRING. 1 29 

are quietly given up, and small prefer- 
ences yielded without a word*, for what 
is trumpeted is spoiled, and the injured 
aspect or the condescending air ruins 
the result. 

Firmness in principle, regardless of 
feeling, may be indeed heroic, but the 
graceful yielding of what is called a 
mere preference, which yet may be as 
deeply rooted as a principle, may in fact 
be scarcely less heroic, when all the 
clamorous, self-asserting feelings inside 
rise up and protest against it. Where 
many live together, there must be innu- 
merable choices and desires, and even 
whims and conflicting plans. Some one 
must sacrifice wishes and convenience 
in trifles, or the machinery will certainly 
jar. It may be in such minute affairs 
as the placing of furniture, the arrange- 
ment of drapery, the hour of meals, the 
cooking of a dish, the time for study or 
for calls, or the choice of amusement 
that the gentle angel finds the opportu- 



13° BEADS UPON A STRING. 

nity for unselfish relinquishment, where 
justice alone would assert its rights. 
But in such trifles the perfection of 
harmony in home-life is found and kept. 
Where " mother " is, there is this good 
angel. Her great renunciations may 
perhaps be known and sung ; but her 
countless small surrenders, that ease the 
way, prevent concussion and conflict? 
and sweeten the daily cup, none may 
know, though all may feel the blessing 
that follows them. Let us emulate those 
who, to us, personify this good angel, 
and seek the grace that makes them 
winsome. If "this kind goeth not out 
but by prayer and fasting," nevertheless, 
let us seek, for it is worth it all. 

"helpers of joy." 

Of making many societies there seems 
to be no end, though there must be a 
limit somewhere. Here is one, however, 
that may exist without organization, by 



BEADS UPON A STRING I3 1 

laws, officers, or fees, and be joined with- 
out formality. The Golden Rule is its 
constitution, and Paul may be called its 
founder or forerunner ; for he says of 
himself and associates, to the Corinthi- 
ans, "We were helpers of your joy." 

To be a helper of joy, one must be 
sympathetic and unselfish ; and this may 
make joining the circle a costly thing, but 
the recompense will overpay it. There's 
none too much joy in the world ; some 
of it has to be helped on and eked out, 
or some people will have little enough. 
Those who do not know how to enjoy 
life ought to be shown how, and helped 
to do it, by way of finding the sunny 
side, when they forget to look, or grope 
in vain. 

But one of the most effective ways of 
helping joy is not to spoil it by refusal 
to share it. When the cup runs over, 
there should be somebody to catch the 
overflow. Joy bubbles into speech, and 
somebody must listen. It may not be 



I3 2 BEADS UPON A STRING. 

easy and comfortable to do this when 
one is inclined, instead, to brood over 
one's own unpleasant experience, and to 
resent another's exuberant gladness ; but 
the command to rejoice with those that 
do rejoice, is not conditioned upon our 
feeling like it. 

Crowd out other feelings to make 
room for sympathy in others' joy, and 
the joy itself will crowd in. We may be 
oftener asked to listen to a tale of woe 
than to a song of gladness ; but when the 
chance offers, let us be helpers of joy; 
for, — 

" All the angels would be glad, 
If, in the world He built, 
Although there must be some things sad, 
No drop of joy were spilt." 

A CHEERFUL EXPECTER. 

The look forward is inevitable. Most 
of us are some sort of expecters ; but 
isn't it strangely true that the glance 
into the future is rather of foreboding 



IN "THE GARDEN OP GIRLS." 133 

than of faith ? A cheerful expecter does 
more than keep himself happy; he sheds 
and shares his hopeful anticipation. 
There is a gracious contagion about it. 

Cheerfulness has been called " the 
bright weather of the heart." One per- 
son can't have all the weather. Don't 
be a doleful prognosticator, but a cheer- 
ful expecter, and make bright weather 
in the hearts around. 



In " £f)e ©artien of <@irte." 

There is delightsome variety in the 
garden of girls. Like children pressed 
to make a difficult choice, one is tempted 
to say, '• I like them all best/' 

Can it be that any girls are anxious 
to outgrow the beautiful blossom-time ? 
Let them not be in haste, lest they squan- 
der the joys of the unreturning clays, and 
defraud others, who need them just as 
they are, in the blithe years of life's be- 



134 IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS.' 1 

ginning. Girlhood, in early and fragrant 
flower, is one of the choicest gifts of 
God. 

As no great occasion is complete un- 
less graced with flowers, so life must 
have its nosegays of girls in clusters of 
youth, brightness, good cheer, and help- 
fulness. How people smile on them ; 
surely they ought to be loved into the 
very best that is possible in girlhood, 
and bless the barren places with whatso- 
ever things are lovely. 

And noticeably first in the garden is 

QUEEN ROSE. 

Queen Rose has beauty, and is blessed 
among girls for this boon from above. 
She has gifts and grace, and gracious- 
ness too, if she is sweet clear to the 
heart. Radiant Rose has opportunities 
and outlook beyond many, and royal 
bounty is hers. There should be a dis- 
tribution of favors no less regal. What 



IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." 135 

can a rose gain by hoarding sweetness ? 
Every one looks at Rose ; but this must 
not spoil her so that she will not look 
at her modest little cousin Sweetbrier, 
whose leaf and petal wardrobe is not so 
fine and full. Beauty has a heavenly 
mission; be true to yours, Queen Rose, 
and make the garden fair, so that pass- 
ers-by may easily forget the stones and 
brambles of the wayside. Keep the in- 
most, delicate petals close-folded over 
the heart of hearts, with that fine re- 
serve that makes the half-open bud love- 
lier than the full-blown flower. Let 
others enthrone you, my Rose, and be 
worthy of their lavished love, remember- 
ing who has made you beautiful. Strive 
to be "exceeding fair/' which reads, in 
the Bible margin, " fair to God." 

But none can love flowers and not 
love 

THE PAXSIES. 

Do look at the pansies, with their 
wise faces ! How much they must know ! 



136 IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." 

Pansies, in the garden of girls, must 
surely stand for thoughts, as they do 
everywhere. How many can describe 
accurately the leaf-draperies that pan- 
sies wear in the garden-bed ? But who 
does not know exactly how the bright 
blossoms lift their faces to the sky, and 
what royal colors they wear ? Girl- 
thcughts are often royal too, as the 
purple petals of the pansy ; and the in- 
tellectual girl has wonderful influence in 
this, the Woman's Age. But remember 
always, dear, gifted Pansy, that your 
choicest beauty and blessing lie in the 
heart of gold ! 

But here we have, with all their witch- 
eries, 

THE MORNING-GLORIES. 

Such flowers for good cheer! They 
brighten the great commonplace, these 
do. They will clamber over an aristo- 
cratic trellis, twine around a cotton string, 
wreathe a sunflower stalk, festoon a back- 



IN " THE GARDEN OP GIRLS.'' 137 

kitchen window, or grace the front ve- 
randa. They never stint their bloom, 
nor wait for admiring on-lookers before 
they fling out their banners. 

The morning-glory girls are as wel- 
come everywhere as their namesakes, the 
" daughters of the dawn." They bring 
morning-colors into the life about them, 
and brighten both kitchen and parlor. 
Don't tell me that my favorite morning- 
glory is not very intellectual, nor ex- 
tremely select. Don't call her u com- 
mon " because she graces the back yard. 
We must have a back yard, most of us ; 
and I dote on the flowers that will grow 
there without a gardener's care, when 
one can't afford a gardener. 

Shall I reveal the secret of my morn- 
ing-glory's charm ? It is a happy heart. 
Blessings on the merry-hearted, not the 
giddy — oh, no ! but the glad, and even 
gleeful, who take hearty and wholesome 
pleasure in all that is given richly to 
enjoy, who make the best of things, and 



138 IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS.' 1 

have sunshine and to spare, for daily 
use and home consumption. A habit 
of giving a blithe " Good-morning," 
a way of being content, a fashion of 
covering rough and waste places, and 
hiding them with bloom, may not be 
in any wise brilliant, but few things are 
better. 

There is room for morning-glories 
everywhere ; for the healthful, good-tem- 
pered, happy girls, ready to " do good 
and to communicate ;? in all sorts of 
homely ways, and not needing to be 
brought from the greenhouse, either, 
wrapped in tin-foil, when a body needs 
heartening up a bit. 

Are you climbing up to your privi- 
leges, dear Morning-glories ? If God 
has given you that dear gift, a happy 
disposition, rejoice in it, and use it for 
him. Let it spread itself around, as the 
pink and purple blooms of dawn caress 
and cling and open everywhere. 

But what have we here ? 



IN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." 139 
HOLLYHOCKS. 

Yes, we have indeed ! Why not ? The 
quaint flowers of grandmother's garden- 
are coming round again. They present 
an improved appearance, however, for 
they are more double than of old ; and 
hollyhocks, in full pink and white and 
pale yellow, are the prettiest flower-cush- 
ions imaginable. But they have very 
short stems ; they are seldom used for 
bouquets ; and they cannot clamber 
about, and peep over the wall. 

So there are stay-at-home girls, that 
may, in their secret hearts, make moan 
over their limitations. They may also 
dislike their names, being sometimes 
called, or mis-called, " old-fashioned ; '* 
and they seem to be kept aloof from the 
bright bouquets that grace the great oc- 
casions. Let them take heart. They 
have their dear associations, and are 
greatly to be desired. Let them con- 
tent themselves upon the short stems, 



140 JN "THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." 

in the cramped area of influence and 
opportunity ; but let them grow double 
where they are. 

No garden border would be complete 
without 

MIGNONETTE. 

It is not easy to analyze the elusive 
yet potent charm of this unobtrusive 
little flower. Not in form, color, or 
grace does it rival its garden neighbors ; 
but in its delicious sweetness it wins its 
way. 

Let no girl say she has no gifts, no 
way to win or to be winsome : for she 
may be, and ought to be, sweet — sweet 
of temper and of spirit, friendly, loving, 
and sympathetic ; and the Gardener can 
make her so. The white cup of the lily 
is fair as well as full of perfume; but 
fragrance is refreshing, however offered. 
The lily may seem a trifle stately and 
aggressive, but lowly mignonette makes 
no parade. It lifts no lovely chalice; 



IN " THE GARDEN OF GIRLS." I4« 

but somehow one finds out that it is 
sweet, and loves it for that. This, too, 
is a heavenly gift ; and any girl in the 
garden whose name is Mignonette may 
well give thanks for it, and others may 
well covet the name and the nature. 
While sweet odors are evanescent, their 
effect is strangely lasting. A waft of 
perfume has wonderful power to quicken 
memory; and even remembered fra- 
grance has dear and peculiar associa- 
tions, though without visible or palpable 
records. So, sweetness of disposition 
endears itself in a nameless way, giving 
and gaining love. 

Exceeding fair is the Garden of Girls, 
In the dew-fall of early youth ; 

And under the Gardener's loving care, 
May it blossom with grace and truth. 



142 HIS WAY IS IN THE SEA. 

pjis OTag is in tjje Sea, 

His path is in deep waters, 

His way is in the sea ; 
The tempest and the darkness 

His messengers may be. 

The mystery about us 

Is not of doubt and fear; 

The mystery of mercy, 
His love at last will clear. 

And, as of old, the waters 

Of tossing Galilee 
Opposed their billows vainly 

When Jesus walked the sea, 

So now the storm and tempest 

Are subject to his will ; 
His path is in the waters, 

He cometh to7vard us still. 

A strange and awesome coming ! 

Yet faith and love rejoice 
When, sounding through the darkness, 

They recognize his voice. 



C0NVEX1EXT HERBS. 1 43 

His voice, so long familiar. 

Proclaims his presence nigh ; 
His greeting falls like music : 

" Fear not, for it is I." 

The listening heart may hear it, 
This word of rest and peace ; 

And when he giveth quiet, 

Earth's jarring tumults cease. • 

And lo, the wind-swept water, 
His strange, dark path, afar. 

Gives back the bright reflection 
Of many a radiant star. 



Conbrmrnt JL^crbs. 

Some remedies which are very effec- 
tive are not easily obtained. They may 
be exceedingly rare, or their preparation 
may be difficult and expensive. Some- 
times what is wanted most and would be 
most effectual for healing is not at hand 



144 CONVENIENT HERBS. 

in the emergency, and then it matters 
little what virtue it possesses. 

But there are simple herbs that may 
usually be found in the home garden or 
the garret, and somebody is sure to have 
a store of these to recommend and to 
offer for the common ills that flesh is 
heir to. A simple remedy at hand is of 
greater worth than a more costly and 
complicated one absolutely unattainable. 

There are inward hurts that need heal- 
ing, and " a wounded spirit who can 
bear?" Bruises and broken bones and 
bodily sicknesses are disabling, and must 
have suitable tendance ; but heart sor- 
rows and wearing griefs, anxieties and 
adversities, are also disabling, and what 
shall be done to gain health and effect 
a cure ? Various reliefs may be sug- 
gested which are not feasible ; but, hap- 
pily, there are remedies at hand, and 
convenient herbs with healing power. 
We need not go on far journeys, nor 
even 



CONVENIENT HERBS. 1 45 

"Hide ourselves for calm. 
The herbs we seek to heal our woe, 
Convenient by our pathway grow; 
Our common air is balm." 

The common tasks are wholesome 
herbs. Work is a restorative in spite 
of the instinctive aversion which a sore 
heart feels toward it. Why should every 
day toil go on when life within is changed 
by some sharp stroke or slow sorrow ? 
Because the comfort of others depends 
upon the doing of homely duties, and 
because the small drudgeries themselves 
are remedial. There is a compulsion 
about them which acts like a tonic, and 
they wrest the attention from the inward 
wound till it has had time to heal a little. 

Small kindnesses and considerate care 
for others are soothing herbs within easy 
reach. The effort to be interested in af- 
fairs around us, when our own are wofully 
absorbing and painful, will often be re- 
warded by a diversion that is wholesome 
and helpful. As a poultice draws out poi- 



H6 convenient herbs. 

son and allays irritation, so the common 
courtesies of life will prove to be emol- 
lients for inward hurts, caused perhaps 
by occurrences far out of the ordinary. 

The habit of quick and keen obser- 
vation stands one in good stead in times 
when help is needed. Simple diversions 
of thought, a readiness to take up little 
pleasures, though the zest seems to be 
gone out of life, will have restorative 
effect ; and gratitude for remaining bless- 
ings, is a sweet herb with wonderful 
healing powers. 

The ability and purpose to make the 
best of things will greatly serve the end, 
as one goes along the daily path in search 
of relief from any trouble. By the aid 
of this spirit, very common herbs may 
be found to have peculiar qualities, and 
may be used with benefit. 

Do not overlook the fact that while con- 
venient herbs abound, divinely adapted 
for relief, they must be gathered and 
used, or they will do no good. 



HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 147 

pfartbfuls ttf Purpose, 

Incidentals are not always acciden- 
tals. Non-essentials may be a part of 
the plan, no less than the absolute req- 
uisites; as when one deliberately presses 
down and heaps up the good measure 
required by law, and justly expected. 
The unexpected overflow may give more 
pleasure than the whole of the even 
measure. Little surprises have a dis- 
tinct and delightful flavor. 

Imagine the quick elation with which 
gleaning Ruth gathered the first " hand- 
ful of purpose " let fall for her in the 
field of Eoaz. She came to glean labo- 
riously ; but the dropped handfuls light- 
ened her labor and her heart, and her 
exultation over the unlooked-for accumu- 
lation must have yielded to a thrill of 
grateful joy, as she recognized the pur- 
pose of the Master himself in the unex- 
pected aid. 

So the small and sweet surprises in 



148 HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 

life's field of daily labor, come through 
an infinite purpose of love ; and the hand- 
ful of comfort dropped where the finding 
will most help and cheer, is divinely and 
definitely ordered. The unlooked-for suc- 
cess, the blithe salutation, the confident 
assurance that all will go well, the en- 
couragement that makes effort easy, the 
fresh token of friendly confidence, the 
sudden outcome of grateful appreciation, 
the glimpse of light and loveliness 
through a suddenly opened window 
when all seemed circumscribed and hum- 
drum, — all these are as much a harmo- 
nious part of divine plan as the tuneful 
music of the singing spheres. 

The stacked and garnered sheaves 
reward the toil of the husbandman, but 
the gleaner's work has its recompense 
too. There are handfuls of purpose for 
her — for it is usually a woman. Occa- 
sionally a woman may " consider a field, 
and buy it," tilling and reaping her own 
land; but generally Ruth gleans, and 



HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 149 

her work is " the large aggregate of little 
things." Her expectations are not ex- 
travagant ; and when, through handfuls 
of purpose let fall, she beats out "an 
ephah " at night, there is a jubilant 
sense of satisfaction about it, which only 
the gleaner knows. 

There is a difference and variety in the 
handfuls: Sometimas it is a handful of 
barley, a handful of common meal for 
some homely nt^ed; it may be a handful 
of herbs for extra savoriness or soothing, 
or it may be a handful of posies just to 
gladden the day. In all these, the lov- 
ing purpose, the tender forecast, makes 
us grateful. The handful added to what 
we have been able to gather is of double 
value. Many a time a pleasure which 
we might never have found among the 
sheaves for ourselves, falls right in our 
way as we glean. It is worse than waste- 
ful to let it lie ungathered; it is ungrate- 
ful. " Your heavenly Father knoweth 
that ye have need of these things," even 



15° HANDFULS OF PURPOSE 

the extras and the unexpected things, 
whether the additions be to purse or to 
pleasure. 

The Lord of the harvest may say to 
the reapers, " Let fall some handfuls of 
purpose ; " and those in higher service, 
doing the greater work for Him, may 
put into our way some unthought-of 
opportunities. Though we may not see 
the handfuls drop, we may be sure that 
it is of divine purpose that they fall. 

One handful is usually vouchsafed ; 
for it is apt to be all we can manage, 
and is better, "with quietness," says the 
wise man, than "two hands full with 
vexation of spirit." 

If the Lord # of the harvest is so kind, 
let us remember that " as he is, even so 
are we in the world; " we represent him 
here. By a little forethought, we may 
learn to share our handfuls. There are 
a thousand small attentions, courtesies, 
and accommodations, which no one 
would ask or expect, which considerate 



HANDFULS OF PURPOSE. 15 1 

love may plan and provide \ and the 
choicest flavor of a little favor is fore- 
thought. It is one thing to overtake 
a friend and pass with cordial saluta- 
tion, and another to go out of the way 
with intent to cheer the loneliness of an 
empty house, or to divert the brooding 
fears of one in suspense. It is one 
thing to toss a flower to a passer-by 
because it happened to be convenient, 
and another to select favorite blossoms 
and carry them on purpose. It is easy 
to applaud success, but often better to 
prophesy it, and thus to encourage and 
secure it. 

Most people are so busy with the mere 
scramble of getting through with what 
must be done, that without provident 
forethought, there will be small leisure 
to put a handful of anything in another's 
way. There must be purpose, or there 
will be no performance. What can we 
do, with ready feet, willing hands, 
friendly speech, sympathetic heart, and 



I5 2 INCIDENTALS. 



ready pen, with a little time and a lit- 
tle thought, to enrich our neighbor "on 
purpose " ? 



Encfoentate, 

The most important thing about a road 
is its direction, whether it be a broad 
track or a narrow footway. If the path 
leads to the place one wishes to reach, 
that is the essential consideration. A 
curve here and there, a few scattered 
stones, some thorns by the wayside, are 
mere incidentals. It would be folly to 
magnify these, and to forget the aim of 
the journey in considering them. 

But some travellers along life's great 
highway, and pilgrims of different ages, 
too, do this very thing ; they make far 
too much of little uncomfortable matters 
that are simply by the way, and will soon 
be passed by, like a bit of prickly hedge 
along the road that leads to a great city 
of delight. The whole road ought not to 



INCIDENTALS. 153 

be condemned or lost sight of. because 
of the briery border that extends but a 
short space. Suppose one does scratch 
his hands ! The skin-deep wounds will 
soon heal. 

The student's path is upward and on- 
ward, and the education to which it leads 
is worth everything it may possibly cost. 
But alone: the way there are sure to be 
discomforts as well as difficulties. Les- 
sons must be learned when a scholar 
would rather read an interesting book or 
have a good time with his mates. Prob- 
lems puzzle, translations baffle, heads 
ache, furnaces sometimes smoke, the 
wind is in the east, teachers are not in- 
fallible in every minute particular, fel- 
low-students are exasperating, one's own 
moods vary, and there are small discour- 
agements and disagreeable things here 
and there, cropping out in unexpected 
places. But these are minor considera- 
tions after all. In spite of these inci- 
dentals, knowledge is power, and its 



154 INCIDENTALS, 

attainment is lasting gain and gladness. 
It is good in itself, and better for the 
usefulness it brings. 

" When the goal is won at last, 
Who will count the trials past?" 

With each milestone reached, the path 
before beckons more attractively, and 
the irksome trifles past are forgotten. 
Why not be wise enough to make light 
of them at the time, knowing that they 
will pass away ? 

In the young Christian's life there are 
petty vexations, small annoyances, inevi- 
table renunciations of self, difficulties 
and discouragements ; but for all this, 
the road is royal, the opportunities mag- 
nificent, the joy heavenly, the grace 
sufficient, and the end a crown and a 
kingdom. 

A man is on his way to claim a fine 
inheritance. He must needs wait at a 
junction in a clingy waiting room. It is 
there that the connection is made for 



PEXETRATIXG COLORS.. 155 

the place he must reach. He is housed 
there from a storm, meanwhile. He 
does not complain that the waiting-room 
is not a palace. He is not to stay. His 
pausing there is a mere incident of the 
journey. He is going on. 

Doirt mind the incidentals along life's 
path, if they are unpleasant; look be- 
yond, march on, and leave them behind. 

Penetrating Colors. 

A traveller lately returned from 
abroad repeats the story that others 
have told about the penetrating colors 
in the pictures upon the uncovered walls 
of Pompeii, in the porous plaster used 
so long ago. The colors used in paint- 
ing pictures on one side of the wall 
went through to the opposite side, and 
the work of the artist could only be en- 
tirely destroyed by tearing down the wall. 
Such work is now a lost art ; but in these 
ancient ruins the evidence of its exis- 



156 PENETRATING COLORS, 

tence still appears, and is noticed by the 
curious traveller as very remarkable. 

Surely those old masters must have 
felt that it was worth while to do their 
best, and to have a care as they laid on 
their colors, knowing that their work 
would be lasting, and that not one side 
alone of the porous plaster, but both 
sides, would bear the traces of the brush. 

The lost art is not a very serious loss. 
The world can get on without it, although 
painters would be glad to recover it as a 
curiosity. But there are other penetrat- 
ing colors of enduring character, and 
their power will never be lost. Thoughts, 
emotions, motives, and intentions color 
our lives. They go through from the 
inside, and the effect of them is seen 
without. They cannot be effaced. The 
Bible speaks of the mind as the cham- 
ber of imagery; and the pictures there 
are in these penetrating colors, — "asa 
man thinketh in his heart, so is he," for 
his thoughts and intentions give color to 



PENETRATING COLORS. 157 

his life and character, and make it what 
it is. If self is the centre of the inside 
pictures, then selfishness will show on 
the outside, sooner or later, as part of 
the very fabric of the life. This is a 
serious thought. 

But it is comforting to feel that pure 
motives and lovely thoughts within, per- 
meate the character and make it beauti- 
ful. Being good is part of doing good. 

Outside influences go through inward 
also ; and there is need to be careful 
about one's company, reading, surround- 
ings, and associations, for these have 
a penetrating power, and their effect is 
lasting. Whatsoever things are true and 
lovely should be sought and thought 
upon. "Let the beauty of the Lord our 
God be upon us " is a fitting prayer. 



